UNF 


THE 

CAPTAIN'S 
DAUGHTER 

OVERTON 


THEL 


THE  UN 
OF  CAL 
LOSAIi 


THE  MACAULLAN 
COMPANY 


Tke  CAPTMNS 
DAM  OUTER 


The   Captain's   Daughter 


' 


•"THERE   WAS   A   DEEP    SILENCE,    THE   SILENCE   OF   THE   HILLS. 


The  Captain's   Daughter 


BY 


GWENDOLEN    OVERTON 

AUTHOR  OF    "ANNE   CARMEL,"   "THE   HERITAGE 
OF   UNREST,"    ETC. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
FRANCES    D.    JONES 


If  orfe 
THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1903 

All  rights  retervtd 


GENERAL 

COPYRIGHT,  1903, 
BY  PERRY  MASON  &  CO. 

COPYRIGHT,  1903, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up,  electrotyped,  and  published  November,  1903. 


Sortaooli 

J.  S.  Cuihlog  «c  Co.  —  Berwick  St  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mail.,  U.S.A. 


PS 


NOTE 

THE  story  which  is  here  presented  in  book 
form  originally  was  published  serially  in  The 
Youth's  Companion. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  There  was  a  deep  silence,  the  silence  of  the 

hills "  .         .         .         .          Frontispiece 

PAGE 

"  Marian  stood  stiff  with  fear "  .         -57 

"  '  I'm  sentry,  ...  I  can't  leave  my  post '  "   .     167 

"  '  You  ain't  disbelieving  me,  Captain  ?     Sure 

ye  ain't?  ' "  .         .         .         .         .     179 

"  He  rose  to  his  feet,  and  stood  looking  down 

at  her"     .        .         .        .         .         .         .     225 

"  He  gave  Marian  the  pleasure  of  telling  him 

again "     .        ...         .         .         .     263 


The   Captain  s   Daughter  T:>s 

or  r',E/f  ^s 

-'TV 

CHAPTER   I 

HAGGARTY  was  coming  down  the  line. 
So  Marian  waited  for  him.  She  could 
have  mounted,  herself,  well  enough,  for  that 
matter,  even  though  Natchez  was  restless 
and  dancing  around  in  circles.  She  had 
been  accustomed  to  those  little  whims  of 
his  for  a  matter  of  five  years,  and  to  other 
whims  in  other  horses  for  some  ten  years  be 
fore  that.  But  she  felt  that  she  was  getting 
too  near  to  young-ladyhood  to  scramble  on 
any  way  at  all,  before  such  eyes  as  might 
be  watching  —  in  the  garrison.  Beyond  the 
garrison  —  well,  that  was  another  matter. 

So  she  waited  for  Haggarty  to  come  up, 


io      THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

which  he  did,  saluting.  Then  he  took 
Natchez'  bridle  close  behind  the  shanks  of 
the  curb  and  held  him  with  a  grip  of  iron, 
while  Marian  put  her  foot  into  the  big 
palm  and  sprang  into  the  saddle.  She 
stood  in  the  stirrup  while  he  settled  her 
skirt. 

Now  Haggarty  was  particular  about  the 
hang  of  riding  skirts  —  more  especially 
when  the  skirt  was  Marian's.  He  was  also 
particular  about  the  folding  of  saddle- 
blankets  and  the  set  of  a  saddle-cloth. 
Neither,  in  this  case,  suited  him. 

"  Who  saddled  yer  horse  ? "  he  asked, 
regarding  uneven  edges  of  gray  blanket 
with  marked  disfavor,  as  Natchez,  being 
free  of  the  great  hand  near  his  chin  strap, 
began  twisting  his  beautiful,  glossy  black 
body  around  in  circles  again.  Marian  tried 
vainly  to  keep  him  still. 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER       n 

"  Story,  I  suppose,"  she  said.  Story  was 
the  Norrises'  striker,  and  Haggarty  had 
small  use  for  him.  There  was  only  one 
striker  who  was  the  sort  of  striker  that 
Haggarty  really  approved  —  and  that  was 
Haggarty. 

"Yer  blankets  wasn't  folded  like  that 
when  I  was  strikin'  for  the  Lieutenant,"  he 
observed.  "  You  never  saw  the  edges 
spreadin'  three  inches  apart  and  the  cor 
ners  pointin'  in  every  whicht  way,  then. 
And  yer  saddle-cloth  was  properly  brushed." 
He  flicked  off  an  infinitesimal  horsehair 
from  the  blue. 

Marian  smiled.  "Well,  it  wasn't  father 
who  discharged  you,  Haggarty,"  she  re 
minded  him.  "You  grew  tired  of  us. 
You  left  of  your  own  sweet  will." 

It  was  not  entirely  kind  of  Marian  to 
say  that.  It  was  true,  so  true  that  it 


12      THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

destroyed  the  old  soldier's  grievances. 
And  an  old  soldier  is  as  much  entitled 
to  his  grievance  as  to  his  extra  pay. 

Haggarty  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Oh! 
he  was  growin'  tired  of  me,  the  Lieutenant 
was." 

Marian's  father  had  been  a  captain  a 
matter  of  a  dozen  years,  but  it  was  only 
officially  that  Haggarty  saw  fit  to  remem 
ber  it.  In  ordinary  conversation  he  was 
the  Lieutenant  still,  as  he  had  been  in  the 
days  when  the  raw  young  Irishman  had 
joined  his  troop. 

"  I  don't  believe  so,"  said  Marian, 
easily.  "  I  don't  believe  he  was,  and 
neither  do  you."  She  had  argued  it  so 
many,  so  very  many,  times  with  Haggarty 
before,  that  the  interest  had  somewhat 
waned.  And  Natchez  was  dancing  to  be  off. 

Haggarty's    face    was    very    long  —  and 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER      13 

the  longest  face  on  earth  can  be  that  of 
an  injured  Irishman.  "  Sure  and  he  was," 
he  said  conclusively.  "  Let's  see  you  go 
off,  Miss  Marian." 

She  set  Natchez  to  a  fast  canter  up 
the  line  for  Haggarty's  amusement;  and, 
as  he  watched,  his  face  grew  pleased  in 
spite  of  himself. 

It  was  he  who  had  taught  the  girl  to 
ride  like  that.  He  had  started  with  her 
before  she  had  been  quite  two  years  old, 
leading  her  around  a  certain  army  post 
in  a  desolate  alkali  flat  —  first  upon  the 
back  of  his  own  horse,  afterward  upon 
that  of  her  own  burro,  advancing  her 
little  by  little  until  -she  had  been  equal 
to  the  management  of  pretty  nearly  any 
horse  that  came  her  way. 

Natchez  was  not  a  bronco.  He  was 
a  splendid,  arching-necked,  wide-flanked 


i4      THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

black,  which  the  brother  of  Chief  Natchez 
had  possessed  himself  of  by  means  that 
would  perhaps  not  have  borne  investiga 
tion,  and  had  given  to  Marian  in  ex 
change  for  a  gayly  illustrated  and  colored 
linen-bound  edition  of  "  The  Three  Little 
Kittens."  There  was  not  a  handsomer 
horse  on  the  frontier,  and  there  was  not 
a  better  rider  than  Marian. 

Haggarty,  as  he  stood  watching,  con 
gratulated  himself  upon  the  latter  indisputa 
ble  fact.  Then,  as  the  black  horse  with 
the  slender,  erect  figure  upon  it  disap 
peared  around  the  angle  of  the  quarters,  he 
turned  away  and  caught  sight  of  Story, 
who  was  coming  out  of  Captain  Norris's 
house. 

Haggarty  had  left  the  Norrises'  service 
a  number  of  years  before,  but  -he  looked 
upon  his  right  to  interfere  and  to  keep 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER       15 

things  running  straight,  as  in  nowise 
lessened.  So  he  went  up  to  Story  and 
gave  that  good-humored  young  American 
some  points  as  to  the  folding  of  saddle- 
blankets,  and  as  to  the  duties  of  his  posi 
tion  in  general. 

He  was  severe,  but  Story  was  amiable, 
and  Haggarty's  reputation  of  troop  crank 
was  unassailable.  The  lecture  was  ac 
cepted  with  the  respect  which  became  a 
youth  in  his  first  enlistment,  and  Story 
went  on  his  way.  Haggarty,  looking 
glum,  went  his  ;  which  —  since  dinner-call 
had  just  sounded  —  was  to  the  barracks. 
And  Marian  went  her  own  way,  jumping  the 
wide  acequia  in  front  of  the  sutler's  store, 
and  keeping  out  along  the  road. 

She  was  on  her  way  to  meet  the  ambu 
lance  which  was  bringing  her  mother  back 
to  the  post. 


16      THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

Mrs.  Norris  had  been  on  a  visit  to 
California  for  a  couple  of  months.  The 
ambulance  had  been  sent  the  thirty  miles 
to  the  railroad  for  her  and  for  Major 
Beveridge's  nephew,  who  was  coming  to 
stay  with  his  uncle  and  to  see  the  "  real 
thing"  in  the  way  of  the  Wild  West. 

Marian  rode  out  far  beyond  the  barbed- 
wire  fence  which  marked  the  confines  of 
the  reservation,  on  and  on  along  the  road, 
fording  the  creek,  which  was  high  with  the 
late  autumn  rains  and  the  melted  snow 
from  the  mountains ;  and  presently  she 
came  to  the  top  of  a  divide.  She  halted 
there,  waiting. 

Natchez  was  quieter  now.  He  stood 
still,  getting  his  breath,  with  even  swelling 
and  sinking  of  his  sides.  There  was  a 
deep  silence,  the  silence  of  the  hills, 
where  there  is  no  living  thing  •  save  per- 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER       17 

haps  a  cow  in  the  distance,  moving  down 
some  trail  to  the  creek,  a  squirrel  whisk 
ing  about  the  gathering  of  acorns  from 
scrub  oaks,  or  a  hawk  drifting  high  in  air. 
A  wind  blew  from  the  snow  mountains  far 
away  in  the  west.  It  streamed  out  the 
horse's  black  mane  and  tail,  and  the  loose 
strands  of  the  girl's  golden  hair. 

The  ambulance  was  coming  along  the 
flat  below,  and  an  escort  wagon  was  fol 
lowing  some  distance  in  the  rear.  The 
dust  rose  up  and  hung  and  spread  behind 
them  both.  Marian  remembered  that  re 
cruits  were  expected  to-day.  Probably  the 
men  in  the  escort  wagon  were  recruits. 

Soon  the  ambulance  was  so  near  that 
she  could  hear  the  rattling  of  the  traces. 

She  turned  Natchez  out  of  the  road. 
The  four  mules  came  tugging  up  the  hill 
and  the  ambulance  drew  alongside. 


i8       THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

She  leaned  far  out  from  her  saddle ;  so 
far  that  the  young  fellow  on  the  front 
seat  instinctively  put  out  his  arm  to  catch 
her.  She  took  her  mother's  hand.  But 
Natchez  was  nervous.  He  objected  to 
the  proximity  of  the  wheels.  So  Marian 
let  the  hand  go  and  moved  a  little  farther 
away. 

The  young  fellow  on  the  front  seat  was 
watching  her  horsemanship  with  much  ad 
miration.  Mrs.  Norris  introduced  him. 
He  was  Louis,  Major  Beveridge's  nephew, 
as  Marian  had  supposed.  They  talked 
together  for  a  while. 

Then,  the  foot  of  the  hill  being  reached, 
the  driver  put  the  mules  to  a  trot.  The 
dust  raised  was  by  no  means  to  Natchez' 
liking.  It  got  into  his  quivering  red 
nostrils,  and,  for  that  matter,  got  also  into 
Marian's  nose  and  mouth  and  interfered 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER       19 

with  speech.  The  road  was  narrowing. 
She  turned  out,  and  went  skirting  it,  well 
into  the  open.  Now  and  then  when  she 
came  to  a  coyote  hole  she  jumped  it,  and 
once  she  took  a  log  that  lay  in  her  way. 

Louis  Beveridge  was  more  than  ever 
impressed.  "  By  Jimminy !  "  he  ejacu 
lated,  "she  can  ride." 

It  would  have  been  strange  had  it  been 
otherwise,  Mrs.  Norris  told  him.  "  She 
was  not  quite  four  years  old  when  she 
went  on  donkey-back  from  Thomas  to 
Apache ;  across  the  White  Mountains  and 
through  Rocky  Canon." 

He  guessed  that  the  feat  was  worth  tell 
ing,  but  he  was  new  to  the  land.  "  From 
Thomas  to  Apache,"  meant  nothing  to 
him  —  and  as  for  Rocky  Canon,  of  that 
all  but  impassable  roadway  he  had  never 
heard. 


20       THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

Once  Marian  fell  behind,  to  see  what 
manner  of  men  the  recruits  in  the  escort 
wagon  might  be.  Then  she  gave  Natchez 
the  rein,  and  was  back  in  the  garrison  be 
fore  the  leaders  of  the  ambulance  had 
reached  the  reservation  line,  a  half-mile 
outside. 

It  was  more  than  a  week  later  that  she 
undertook  to  do  the  honors  of  the  post 
by  taking  Major  Beveridge's  nephew  down 
to  see  the  only  amusing  thing  that  offered 
just  then,  —  the  riding  drill  of  the  new 
recruits. 

Marian  herself  liked  Louis  well  enough. 
He  was  a  handsome  youth,  though  he 
showed  the  effects  of  the  strain  that  over- 
study  had  brought  about  and  which  had 
caused  him  to  be  sent  to  the  West  for  a 
year  of  outdoor  life  at  the  very  time  when 
he  should  have  been  beginning  his  junior 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER       21 

year  at  college.  Also  there  was  not  much 
of  anything  which  he  knew  how  to  do.  At 
least  that  was  how  Marian  phrased  it  —  but 
it  meant  simply  that  he  did  not  know  how 
to  ride. 

Except  for  that,  she  found  him  more 
companionable  than  any  one  else  in  the 
garrison  and  they  got  along  together  very 
well.  Which  was  a  good  thing,  as  they 
were  the  only  two  young  people  in  the 
place. 

Haggarty  had  his  doubts.  Not  that  he 
had  spoken  to  young  Beveridge  or  had 
been  within  a  hundred  feet  of  him.  He 
mistrusted  "tenderfeet"  on  general  prin 
ciples,  and  the  inhabitant  of  a  city  was  to 
be  looked  upon  with  suspicion  until  he 
had  proved  himself  of  some  use  in  the 
world  —  or  in  what  Haggarty  understood 
to  be  the  world. 


22      THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

So  Haggarty,  considering  it  his  duty  to 
pass  judgment  upon  the  company  that 
Miss  Marian  kept,  and  having  some  min 
utes  at  his  disposal  before  it  should  be 
necessary  to  begin  the  training  of  the  re 
cruits,  dismounted  from  his  sorrel,  slipped 
his  arm  through  the  bridle-rein,  and  walked 
over  to  where  the  two  stood  on  the  out 
skirts  of  the  drill  ground,  leaning  against 
the  cannon. 

Now  Haggarty  had  ridden  for  over 
twenty  years.  His  legs,  as  a  consequence, 
had  the  cavalry  bend.  To  put  it  in  plain 
English,  they  were  bowed,  and  very  bowed. 
It  was  only  upon  horseback  that  he  pre 
sented  a  good  figure.  When  he  walked, 
he  was  not  graceful  at  all. 

His  advancing  form  struck  young  Bev- 
eridge  as  being  very  funny.  He  said  as 
much. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER       23 

Marian  stiffened  from  head  to  foot.  It 
was  one  thing  for  her  to  treat  Haggarty 
with  levity ;  it  was  quite  another  when 
any  one  else  —  and  especially  a  civilian  from 
the  East  —  had  the  temerity  to  do  so. 

Haggarty  had  been  good  to  her  mother 
before  she  herself  had  been  born.  It  was 
Haggarty  who  had  carried  her  out  into 
the  terrible  southwestern  midsummer  sun 
shine  for  the  first  time.  She  was  not 
going  to  have  sport  made  of  Haggarty. 
And  she  gave  Louis  Beveridge  to  under 
stand  as  much.  He  checked  his  laugh. 

If  Haggarty  was  funny  from  Beveridge's 
point  of  view,  Beveridge  was  funny  from 
Haggarty's.  Beveridge's  face  was  some 
what  pink  and  white,  whereas  Haggarty's 
was  a  deep  sienna  red,  which  all  his  long 
life  on  the  frontier  had  never  brought 
down  to  a  quiet  and  enduring  tan.  To 


24       THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

all  appearances  he  was  chronically  suffering 
from  a  new  and  painful  attack  of  sunburn. 
But  he  liked  faces  that  way,  much  better 
than  ones  of  the  tenderfoot's  pallid  hue. 

He  objected,  upon  the  same  grounds,  to 
Beveridge's  hands.  He  would  have  been 
glad  to  be  able  to  object  to  Beveridge's 
figure,  but  there  was  no  denying  that  that 
was  good, —  erect,  square-shouldered,  strong, 
and  straight-legged. 

Haggarty  resented  the  legs,  —  he  was 
vaguely  conscious  of  a  slight  defect  in  his 
own,  —  and  he  resented  that  he  had  seen 
Marian ,  with  Beveridge  several  times  in 
the  course  of  the  last  week.  His  was  a 
jealous  soul.  There  had  been  a  time 
when  Miss  Marian  had  cried  lustily  if 
"  Haddarty "  had  gone  from  her  sight, 
and  he  was  of  opinion  that  it  should  be 
somewhat  that  way  now. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER       25 

He  acknowledged  the  introduction  re 
motely,  raising  his  cap  —  you  did  not 
salute  a  tenderfoot.  It  was  clearly  im 
possible  to  express  views  concerning  civil 
ians  to  this  one,  unless  properly  cloaked, 
at  any  rate.  So  Haggarty  cloaked  them. 
He  spoke  of  the  new  recruits.  It  was 
not  in  complimentary  terms.  They  were 
raw,  they  were  green,  they  were  street 
urchins  —  mostly.  He  failed  to  see  how 
they  were  to  be  taught  anything  that  a 
man  worth  calling  a  man  ought  to  know. 
They  were  never  going  to  learn  to  ride  — 
never.  He  had  given  up  all  hopes  of 
that. 

Marian  reminded  him  of  perhaps  half 
a  hundred  other  batches  of  raw  recruits 
of  whom  he  had  given  up  hopes  in  times 
gone  by. 

"  Those   ones    learned,"    she   encouraged 


26      THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

him ;  "  perhaps  these  ones  will,  after  a 
while,  if  you're  patient  with  them." 

"  Patient  with  them  !  "  said  Haggarty, 
mockingly;  "it's  patient  with  them  I  have 
need  to  be.  I  had  them  out  yesterday. 
You'd  have  thought  I'd  had  the  backs 
of  them  horses  clipped  and  waxed  down 
with  tallow  candles  —  they  slid  off  that 
slick."  The  nose  of  the  sorrel  was  poked 
over  his  shoulder  as  he  talked,  and  he 
stroked  it,  going  fiercely  on. 

"  One  of  them  in  particular  is  the  big 
gest  sissy  of  the  lot,  —  Creighton,  his  name 
is,  —  little  gutter-snipe  that  enlisted  in 
New  York."  Haggarty  was  quite  aware 
that  Beveridge  was  from  New  York.  For 
that  matter,  he  was  himself,  —  he  had  en 
listed  there  two  years  after  he  had  come 
from  the  old  country,  —  but  he  chose  to 
ignore  the  fact  just  now.  He  went  on 
about  Creighton. 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER       27 

"You  watch  for  him,"  he  said.  "You'll 
know  him  —  long,  lank,  white-faced  city 
kid  with  curly  hair ;  hangs  on  to  his 
horse's  neck  for  dear  life,  and  tumbles 
off  when  he  looks  at  a  hurdle." 

He  might  have  kept  it  up  longer,  as 
Beveridge's  much  amused,  tolerant  smile 
was  exasperating,  but  just  then  the  recruits 
came  in  sight  from  the  stables,  advancing 
slowly,  with  little  ease. 

Haggarty  saluted  Marian,  lifted  his  cap 
to  Beveridge,  put  his  foot  in  the  stirrup, 
mounted,  and  trotted  away. 

As  the  recruits  came  nearer,  Marian 
looked  for  Creighton  among  them.  She 
picked  him  out. 

"  That's  the  one,  I  expect,"  she  said. 
It  was  the  only  one  who  answered  to  the 
description  at  all,  but  he  was  not  exactly 
what  the  old  soldier  might  have  led  one 


28       THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

to  suppose.  He  was  a  fairly  well  set  up 
man,  with  a  good  enough  face,  which  was 
only,  perhaps,  a  trifle  weak.  Marian 
rather  took  a  fancy  to  him. 

Beveridge  looked  at  him  for  a  moment ; 
several  different  expressions  went  over  his 
own  face.  "  Why,  what  in  the  mischief —  " 
he  stopped  short. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Marian,  turning 
to  him. 

There  was  a  puzzled  frown  on  his  fore 
head.  "Nothing,"  he  said  —  "nothing  of 
much  account,  that  is ;  I  was  just  remem 
bering  something." 

Marian  was  not  prying.  She  let  the 
matter  go.  And  besides,  she  was  interested 
in  the  recruits  —  particularly  in  Creighton. 

Haggarty  was  dressing  them  down  quite 
terrifically.  It  appeared  to  scare  them  all 
very  much  and  to  send  a  couple  of  them 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER       29 

off  their  horses  from  no  other  cause  than 
sheer  trembling. 

"  And  he's  as  mild  as  a  lamb,  when  it 
comes  to  that,"  Marian  defended  him 
against  Beveridge's  possible  misconstruction. 
"  You  ought  to  see  him  with  a  baby  or  a 
dog  or  a  sick  cat.  Once  he  went  right 
into  a  camp  of  hostile  Indians  to  shoot  a 
wounded  horse  they  were  leaving  to  suf 
fer." 

But  there  was  nothing  mild  about  him 
now.  He  was  putting  the  luckless  re 
cruits  through  their  paces  with  the  best 
of  a  will.  They  sat  astride  their  bare 
backed  horses  as  well  as  they  could,  trot 
ting  around  and  around  the  elliptical  track. 
Now  and  then  one  lost  his  balance  com 
pletely,  made  a  wild  lunge  for  the  mane, 
or  flung  both  arms  around  his  horse's 
neck,  before  he  slid  to  the  ground. 


3o      THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

The  horse  would  stop  in  his  tracks  and 
wait  patiently.  He  was  probably  a  gentle 
animal  who  had  in  his  day  suffered  many 
a  recruit  to  learn  the  rudiments  of  horse 
manship  upon  his  broad  back. 

The  least  gentle  of  them  all,  however, 
appeared  to  have  fallen  to  the  lot  of 
Creighton.  It  was  a  raw-boned  speckled 
gray,  with  a  neck  which  curved  the  wrong 
way,  and  great  length  of  nose.  It  looked 
ugly  tempered,  and  it  was.  Marian  knew 
it  of  old.  Its  reputation  was  that  of  a 
bolter  and  a  shyer.  She  spoke  of  it  to 
Beveridge. 

"It  seems  a  pity  to  give  him  to  any 
one  who  doesn't  understand  his  ways,"  she 
said.  "  He  is  very  uncertain.  I  have  seen 
him  bolt  at  mounted  parade.  You  can 
never  be  sure  what  he  is  going  to  do 
next." 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER       31 

But  almost  any  one  could  have  told 
that  it  was  going  to  do  something  tricky 
and  unmanageable  now.  Its  ears  were 
lying  back  and  its  upper  lip  was  drawing 
up  from  the  long,  mean,  yellow  teeth. 
Once  it  kicked  out  with  a  little  squeal. 
But  Creighton  rode  a  trifle  better  than 
most  of  the  others,  and  managed  to  keep 
his  seat. 

There  was  a  stack  of  low  hurdles  in  the 
centre  of  the  track.  A  halt  was  called,  and 
they  were  brought  out  and  placed  across 
the  road  at  intervals  of  a  good  many 
yards. 

Then  the  drill  began  again,  and  recruit 
after  recruit  went  tumbling  into  the  dust 
as  his  horse  took  the  little  leap  which 
was  hardly  more  than  a  step,  after  all. 

But  Creighton  got  over  his  first  two 
hurdles,  if  not  gracefully,  at  least  in  safety ; 


32       THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

and  it  was  plain  that  he  was  beginning  to 
think  he  could  ride,  when  suddenly  the 
gray  stopped,  its  forelegs  planted  out,  its 
ears  flat,  its  eyes  showing  a  vicious  white. 
It  had  consented  to  take  the  other  hurdles, 
but  this  one  it  refused. 

Creighton  gave  an  urging  kick  in  the 
ribs.  It  was  not  a  hard  one,  but  enough 
to  finish  the  temper  of  the  uncertain  beast, 
which  shut  its  big  teeth  fast  on  the  bit, 
swerved  at  a  sharp  angle,  and  began  to  run. 

Creighton's  knees  clung  instinctively  to 
the  bony  sides,  and  his  hands  grasped  first 
at  the  mane,  then,  in  another  moment,  at 
the  long,  awkward  neck  itself. 

The  horse  was  making  straight  for  where 
Marian  and  young  Beveridge  stood.  As 
it  passed  the  cannon,  the  recruit  caught  sight 
of  Beveridge.  His  face  set  in  fear.  His 
hold  relaxed. 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER      33 

Beveridge  saw  it.  "  Stick  on  !  "  he  called. 
"  Stick  on,  whatever  you  do,  Levering !  " 

Marian  caught  the  name.  "  Levering  ?  " 
She  looked. up,  surprised. 

Beveridge  flushed  with  a  quick  annoy 
ance.  "  Creighton,  I  mean,"  he  answered 
shortly.  "  I  can't  be  expected  to  remember 
all  their  names."  He  was  watching  the 
runaway.  He  started  forward.  "  It's  all 
up  with  him  now,"  he  exclaimed.  And  it 
was  as  he  said. 

Haggarty's  dog,  a  truly  wonderful  cur, 
had  been  investigating  some  snake  or 
gopher  hole  at  a  distance  from  the  cannon. 
It  heard  the  horse  coming  toward  it  at 
a  run,  pricked  up  its  ears  and  tail,  and 
darted  forward,  barking  with  all  its  might. 

It  was  the  finish  of  the  gray's  exaspera 
tion.  It  gave  a  plunge  to  one  side,  com 
bining  a  shy,  a  rear,  and  a  buck,  a  remarkable 


34       THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

movement  which  might  have  unseated  a 
vaquero.  Creighton  was  flung  into  the  air 
and  fell  head  foremost  into  a  pile  of  broken 
bottles  and  old  tin  cans.  The  horse  stopped 
for  just  an  instant,  gave  a  sidewise  glance 
with  the  wicked,  white-rolling  eyes,  and 
kept  on  with  his  run. 

But    the    new    recruit    was    lying    quite 
still. 


CHAPTER   II 

THERE  was  bad  feeling  between  Marian's 
dog  and  Haggarty's.  There  had  always 
been,  and  it  was  the  more  unfortunate  that 
they  had  to  see  a  good  deal  of  each  other. 

Marian's  dog  was  named  Puggy-Wuggy. 
He  was  a  Willoughby  pug,  and  small  and 
dark,  as  such  a  one  should  be.  He  was 
very  aristocratic,  and  behaved  himself  ac 
cordingly.  Never  for  one  instant  did  he 
forget  his  pedigree  —  which  was  English 
and  respectable. 

Haggarty's  dog  resented  this.  He  was 
anything  but  an  aristocrat.  He  was  of 
unknown  breed  and  unusual  appearance. 
He  was  all  white,  except  for  his  head,  which 
had  the  coach  dog's  spots,  and  the  extreme 
35 


36      THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

tip  of  his  tail,  which  was  dark  brown. 
The  effect  produced  was  peculiar.  But  a 
soldier  does  not  love  a  dog  because  of  his 
ancestors.  And  this  dog  was  bright.  His 
name  was  Skeezicks. 

Now  there  had  been  frequent  disagree 
ments  between  Puggy-Wuggy  and  Skeezicks, 
but  thus  far  they  had  never  gone  beyond 
a  few  snaps  and  snarls,  and  serious  trouble 
had  always  been  averted  just  in  time.  As 
a  rule,  moreover,  Puggy-Wuggy  was  kept 
out  of  Skeezicks's  way,  shut  up  in  the 
house  whenever  Haggarty  and  Skeezicks 
came  around.  Naturally  his  feelings  suf 
fered  from  this.  It  hurt  his  dignity,  and 
dignity  —  despite  his  mussed  little  black 
face  and  curled-up  tail  —  was  Puggy-Wug- 
gy's  strong  point. 

Things  were  gradually  coming  to  that 
pitch  where  a  fight  was  inevitable.  Puggy- 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER       37 

Wuggy  did  not  shrink  from  the  fight. 
He  was  possibly  one-third  the  size  of 
Skeezicks,  but  valor  does  not  go  by 
inches.  There  was  bulldog  blood  in  him, 
and  it  showed  in  the  outthrusting  of  his 
lower  jaw.  He  bristled  for  the  set-to. 

Skeezicks,  upon  his  side,  was  not  seeking 
trouble,  but  he  was  ready  to  do  his  part 
should  the  occasion  arise  —  as  finally  it  did. 

Puggy-Wuggy  went  over  to  the  troop 
quarters  all  by  himself,  trotting  straight 
across  the  centre  of  the  parade  ground, 
with  determination  in  the  very  set  of  his 
extremely  short  and  wrinkled  neck.  He 
had  been  told  never  to  leave  the  officers' 
row ;  to  stay  about  his  own  house  prefer 
ably,  but  never  under  any  circumstances 
to  go  to  the  barracks.  The  soldiers  knew 
this,  and  whenever  he  disobeyed  rules  they 
sent  him  scurrying  home. 


38      THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

This  afternoon,  however,  the  men  were 
nearly  all  away  at  the  target-range,  and 
there  was,  at  the  moment,  no  one  upon 
the  front  porch  except  Creighton  —  in  band 
ages  and  court-plaster  yet,  and  showing 
deep  scars  still  blue  and  red.  He  was  to 
come  off  the  sick  report  the  next  day, 
but  this  afternoon  he  was  still,  officially, 
an  invalid  unfit  for  duty,  and  at  liberty  to 
wander  about  the  post  at  his  will.  He 
had  had  a  narrow  escape  and  had  been 
in  the  hospital  for  a  matter  of  two 
weeks. 

Skeezicks  was  also  on  the  front  porch, 
and  his  temper  was  bad  just  then.  Hag- 
garty  had  sent  him  home,  believing  that 
the  rifle-range,  where  recruits  were  learning 
the  first  principles  of  target  practice,  was 
no  place  for  so  valuable  an  animal,  who 
would,  moreover,  rush  into  the  forefront 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER       39 

of  danger  if  a  prairie-dog  raised  its  head 
above  its  mound. 

Skeezicks  saw  Puggy-Wuggy  coming. 
Puggy-Wuggy  saw  Skeezicks  prick  up  his 
ears  and  rise.  As  for  Creighton,  he  did 
not  know  anything  whatever  about  the 
state  of  affairs,  nor  even  that  Miss  Nor- 
ris's  dog  must  always  be  sent  straight 
home  again.  He  snapped  his  fingers  to 
call  him,  instead. 

Puggy-Wuggy  disregarded  it.  His  pop- 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  Skeezicks,  and  upon 
nothing  else.  Skeezicks  jumped  down 
from  the  porch  and  advanced  slowly  to 
the  middle  of  the  road.  Puggy-Wuggy 
came  up  to  him.  As  has  been  said,  the 
situation  was  not  understood  by  Creigh 
ton,  who  was  new  to  the  post,  and  only 
took  it  all  as  a  joke.  He  believed  in 
dog-chivalry,  and  the  barracks  dog  was  so 


40      THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

very  much  larger  than  the  officers'  line 
one,  with  its  little  mincing  airs.  Skee 
zicks,  he  thought,  would  never  think  of 
consenting  to  fight  so  tiny  an  antagonist. 

But  Puggy-Wuggy's  small  black  face  was 
thrust  up  into  Skeezicks's  speckled  one. 
His  little  lower  teeth  showed  savagely, 
the  rims  of  his  eyes  were  red,  —  even  as 
the  eyes  of  his  bulldog  ancestors  had 
once  been  red, — and  his  tail  was  in  a  quiv- 
eringly  stiff  curl.  He  growled.  Skeezicks 
growled  back.  He  made  a  jump  and  a 
snap.  Skeezicks  did  the  same.  They 
drew  off,  seeking  a  point  of  vantage  to 
attack. 

u  Sick  'em  ! "  said  Creighton,  looking  on 
it  as  a  joke  still. 

But  it  was  not  a  joke.  They  took  him 
at  his  word,  and  the  fight  was  on, — 
growls,  howls,  snaps,  rolling,  tumbling, 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER       41 

tearing.  Puggy-Wuggy's  very  small  ness 
stood  him  in  good  stead  at  first.  He  was 
under  and  over  and  around  Skeezicks, 
nipping  him  here,  hanging  on  to  him 
there. 

Creighton  thought  the  situation  far  too 
funny  to  spoil.  He  stood  up  and  leaned 
against  a  pillar  and  urged  Puggy-Wuggy 
on.  "Go  it,  Shorty!"  he  encouraged; 
"  swallow  him  whole  !  eat  him  up  !  make  a 
meal  of  him  !  Sick  'em  !  "  Puggy-Wuggy 
did  not  need  the  incentive  —  but  in  another 
moment  he  needed  help.  Skeezicks  had 
him  down  and  was  getting  a  hold  on  his 
neck. 

Creighton  had  no  intention  of  letting  the 
Captain's  dog  get  hurt,  but  he  was  rather 
fond  of  fights  of  the  kind,  and  he  did  not 
want  to  interfere  at  once.  Puggy-Wuggy 
was  yelping  and  biting  at  one  and  the  same 


42       THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

time,  beside  himself  with  rage.  But  in 
another  instant  the  yelps  stopped  short. 
Skeezicks  had  him  by  one  of  the  folds  of 
his  neck,  which  gave  a  magnificent  tooth- 
hold,  and  was  shaking  him  until  he  was  only 
a  blur  in  the  air. 

Creighton  decided  that  it  was  now  time 
to  interfere,  more  especially  as  he  saw  the 
men  come  running  from  the  other  bar 
racks.  He  went  to  the  rescue.  But  it  was 
not  so  easy  to  separate  the  combatants.  It 
took  four  soldiers  to  do  it.  And  directly 
the  grip  of  Skeezicks's  jaws  was  loosed, 
Puggy-Wuggy,  nothing  daunted,  turned  on 
his  enemy  again.  Skeezicks  was  dragged 
struggling  into  the  troop  clerk's  office,  and 
Puggy-Wuggy  was  gathered  up  into  Creigh- 
ton's  arms,  still  growling  with  anger  and 
whining  with  pain,  and  carried  to  his  home. 

Creighton  delivered  him  to  Marian,  and 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER      43 

together  they  examined  his  wounds.  There 
were  a  number  of  them,  and  they  were 
pretty  severe.  Creighton,  whose  own  body 
had  been  so  recently  cut  up  by  broken  glass, 
as  Puggy-Wuggy's  was  now  by  Skeezicks's 
teeth,  had  a  very  good  notion  of  how  the 
small  dog  must  feel.  There  were  bandages 
in  his  pocket,  also  a  bottle  of  white  vaseline. 
He  brought  them  out. 

"I've  got  these  things,"  he  said;  "the 
hospital  steward  gave  them  to  me,  to  band 
age  myself  and  save  him  and  the  nurse 
time.  I  guess  we'd  be  putting  them  to  a 
good  use  if  we  tried  some  first  aid  to  the 
injured  here." 

His  tone  was  not  altogether  as  respectful 
as  Marian  might  have  liked.  She  noticed 
it.  It  was  a  trifle  flippant  and  familiar.  But 
then  —  he  was  new  to  the  service  and  its 
ways.  And  he  meant  well  by  Puggy- 


44      THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

Wuggy,  which  was  the  main  thing  just  at 
the  present  time. 

"  Can  we  wash  off  the  blood,  some 
where  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  We  might  take  him  to  the  kitchen," 
she  said.  "  The  cook  is  out." 

So  they  took  him  to  the  kitchen  and 
washed  his  cuts  in  a  bowlful  of  tepid  water. 
He  did  not  like  it  at  all.  The  castile  soap 
smarted,  and  the  water  tickled  when  it  ran 
down  among  his  hairs.  He  wriggled  and  he 
kicked ;  but  Creighton  held  him  gently, 
yet  firmly  withal. 

Then  they  took  him  back  to  the  sitting 
room.  They  put  him  on  the  lounge,  and 
Marian  soothed  him  while  Creighton  spread 
the  vaseline  on  the  wounds  and  wrapped  the 
bandages  around  his  poor  little  legs  and  the 
lacerated,  stubby  neck.  It  was  a  piteous- 
eyed  and  much-swathed  pug  that  resulted. 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER      45 

Creighton  stood  off  and  laughed  at  him. 
Marian's  smile  was  of  the  sort  that  her 
father  was  wont  to  describe  as  "  having  a 
string  tied  to  it."  The  funny  part  of  it 
was  not  very  clear  to  her. 

The  mad  and  the  heroic  were  quite  gone 
out  of  Puggy-Wuggy  now.  He  settled 
down  into  his  mistress's  arms  with  a 
whimper,  as  she  made  ready  to  carry  him 
upstairs  to  his  own  special  basket  in  her 
room. 

"  I've  got  to  see  the  Captain,"  said 
Creighton,  as  she  started  to  go.  "He  said 
I  was  to  come  over  sometime  before  retreat." 

The  Captain  was  not  in  at  the  present 
moment.  But  he  would  probably  be  back 
soon,  however.  Creighton  could  wait. 

"  He's  only  gone  over  to  the  saddler's  to 
see  about  a  pistol  holster,  I  think,"  said 
Marian. 


46       THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

"  I'll  wait  then,"  Creighton  told  her. 

So  he  waited  —  and  he  waited,  moreover, 
in  the  sitting  room,  the  which  he  would 
not  have  done  had  he  been  more  accus 
tomed  to  the  ways  of  a  post.  He  would 
have  gone  out  to  the  hall  or  to  the  porch. 
But  he  was  only  a  recruit,  and  he  did  not 
understand  many  things.  Besides,  just  then 
he  was  winding  up  the  bandages  that  re 
mained.  Puggy-Wuggy  had  entirely  un 
done  them  with  his  protesting  struggles. 

It  was  rather  a  slow  process.  While  he 
was  engaged  in  it,  he  heard  some  one  come 
up  the  steps,  cross  the  porch,  and  go  down 
the  hall  with  a  quick  stride.  He  guessed  it 
to  be  Captain  Norris;  and  in  a  moment 
more  he  knew  that  it  was. 

The  dining  room  opened  off  the  sitting 
room.  There  were  heavy  double  portieres 
of  Navajo  blankets  hanging  between. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER      47 

These  were  partly  drawn  together,  but  there 
was  still  enough  space  for  one  to  see  through. 

The  sitting  room  was  darkened.  But  in 
the  dining  room  the  shades  were  up  and  the 
sunlight  was  streaming  in.  So  it  happened 
that  though  Creighton,  from  where  he  was, 
could  see  Captain  Norris  perfectly,  Cap 
tain  Norris,  even  had  he  looked,  could  not 
very  well  have  seen  Creighton. 

But  he  did  not  look.  He  went  straight  to 
where,  between  two  of  the  windows,  there 
stood  a  heavy  quartermaster's  desk.  He 
stopped  in  front  of  it,  took  out  of  his  pocket 
a  handful  of  silver  and  a  few  pieces  of  gold, 
counted  it  out  in  small  stacks,  swept  all  the 
stacks  together  again,  and  took  from  another 
pocket  a  bunch  of  keys. 

Creighton  went  a  step  nearer,  tiptoeing, 
keen,  watching  with  all  his  eyes.  The 
Captain  stooped  down,  unlocked  the  second 


48       THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

of  thiee  small  drawers  in  the  side  of  the  desk, 
put  the  money  into  a  little  wooden  box, 
which  had  not  even  a  cover,  and  locked  the 
drawer  again. 

Now  he  would  come  into  the  sitting  room  ! 
Creighton  drew  sharply  back  and  went  on 
winding  the  strips  of  cotton  again.  But 
Captain  Norris  was  evidently  in  haste. 
Almost  before  Creighton  could  realize  it,  he 
had  gone  down  the  hallway,  the  front  door 
had  banged  behind  him,  and  he  was  already 
upon  the  board  walk. 

The  bandage  was  rolled.  Creighton 
stowed  it  away  and  stood  listening.  There 
was  not  a  sound  in  the  house,  save  only  that 
of  Miss  Marian  walking  back  and  forth  in 
her  own  room  just  above.  The  floors  of 
contract-built  houses  were  thin.  Creighton 
could  hear  every  step  she  took.  He  went 
to  the  door  and  looked  up  and  down  the 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER      49 

hall.  There  was  no  one  about.  And  Miss 
Marian  had  said  that  the  cook  was  out. 

As  for  Mrs.  Norris,  Creighton,  from  his 
place  on  the  barracks  porch,  had  seen  her 
get  into  her  phaeton  and  drive  away,  over 
half  an  hour  before.  And  as  for  Story,  if 
Story  was  around,  there  were  certainly  no 
signs  of  him.  He  would  risk  that.  It  was 
probable  that  Miss  Marian  was  the  only 
person  left  in  the  house.  She  was  still 
moving  about  up  above.  So  long  as  that 
continued,  all  would  be  well  enough. 
Creighton  came  back  into  the  sitting  room, 
pushed  aside  the  portieres,  and  went  through. 
He  started  quickly  for  the  desk. 

At  that  moment  a  door  in  the  kitchen 
opened  and  shut.  Someone  —  a  man  —  was 
coming  toward  the  dining  room. 

There  was  no  time  for  Creighton  to  go 
back.  He  dropped  to  his  knees  and  slipped 


50      THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

under  the  table,  which  was  covered  to  the 
floor  with  a  big  fringed  and  embroidered 
cloth. 

The  fringe  was  still  swaying  suspiciously 
as  Story,  carrying  an  armful  of  wood,  came 
into  the  room.  But  Story  did  not  notice  it. 
The  logs  were  piled  so  high  in  his  arms  that 
his  chin  was  forced  into  the  air.  He  could 
not  look  down.  He  went  through  into  the 
sitting  room,  and  Creighton,  crouching  be 
neath  the  table,  could  hear  him  piling  the 
wood  in  the  wood  chest,  slapping  the  splinters 
from  his  palms  and  blouse,  and  coming 
back.  The  striker  was  taking  his  own  good 
time.  It  was  evidently  his  opinion  that  there 
was  too  much  sunlight  coming  into  the 
dining  room.  He  drew  down  the  shades  a 
little  way,  and  was  at  much  pains  to  get  them 
exactly  even,  one  with  the  other.  At  his 
every  step  the  floor  shook,  and  so  did 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER       51 

Creighton,  enough,  he  could  not  help  think 
ing,  to  make  the  table  dance. 

But  finally  the  shades  were  arranged  to 
Story's  satisfaction.  He  went  out  and 
closed  the  door  after  him. 

Creighton  hesitated,  then  crept  forth. 
As  he  did  so,  he  saw  Story  pass  by  the  win 
dows  toward  the  barracks.  Now,  at  last, 
the  coast  was  clear. 

Creighton  had  his  theory.  He  had 
noticed  that  though  the  second  drawer, 
into  which  the  captain  had  put  the  money 
had  been  so  carefully  locked,  the  drawer 
above  it  was  not  only  unlocked,  but  open  a 
very  little  way. 

Now  the  chances  were  rather  better  than 
good,  that  this  desk  was  built  like  most 
such  pieces  of  furniture,  and  that  there  was 
an  opening  between  the  upper  and  lower 
drawer,  of  which  Captain  Norris  had  never 


52      THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

chanced  to  think.  It  was  worth  the  trying, 
at  any  rate. 

He  listened  one  last  time.  All  was  well. 
Marian  was  still  stirring  around  upstairs. 
Creighton  drew  out  the  upper  drawer. 
The  wood  stuck  a  little.  It  had  to  be 
humored  quietly,  which  was  exasperating. 
But  it  was  out  at  last,  and  the  contents  of 
the  little  wooden  box  in  the  lower  drawer 
were  full  in  view,  and  in  reach. 

The  man's  hand  was  quivering  with 
eagerness.  He  set  the  drawer  he  had 
pulled  out  upon  the  floor.  The  sight  of 
the  little  wooden  box,  with  its  silver  pieces 
and  its  gold,  had  excited  him  to  the  point 
of  forgetting  everything  else  —  of  forgetting 
even  to  listen  for  the  footsteps  on  the  floor 
upstairs. 

They  had  stopped.  Marian  had  put 
Puggy-Wuggy  safely  to  bed.  He  was  as 


53 

comfortable  as  cotton  wadding  and  his  little 
blanket  could  make  him.  He  had  been 
offered  crackers,  but  had  turned  from  them 
with  a  sigh.  If  he  did  that,  he  must  be 
feeling  very  bad  indeed. 

Marian  began  to  be  worried  about  him. 
Perhaps  just  washing  and  anointing  and 
bandaging  had  not  been  enough.  Perhaps 
something  was  broken  or  injured  somewhere 
inside  of  him.  She  sat  down  to  rub  his 
head,  and  see  if  he  would  not  go  to  sleep. 
Having  his  head  rubbed  was  Puggy- 
Wuggy's  idea  of  bliss.  But  this  time  it 
failed  to  content  him.  He  moved  about 
restlessly  and  tried  to  get  up. 

Marian  lifted  him  in  her  arms  again  and 
began  to  walk  up  and  down  with  him.  She 
knew  that  he  did  not  fancy  being  cuddled, 
ordinarily.  That  he  seemed  to  now  was  all 
the  more  proof  that  he  was  very  miserable. 


54      THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

But  presently  he  tried  to  get  down.  She 
set  him  on  the  floor.  He  walked  stiffly 
toward  his  basket,  stopping  every  foot  or  so 
to  survey  his  bandages  with  a  disgusted  air. 

If  he  had  not  been  so  pathetic  a  figure  he 
would  have  been  comical.  Even  Marian 
realized  that,  much  as  she  pitied  him.  He 
whined  to  be  lifted  into  his  basket.  She 
put  him  in.  He  stretched  out  the  bandaged 
legs  that  would  not  bend,  and  went  to  sleep. 

Marian  made  sure  that  he  was  oblivious 
of  this  world  of  sorrows  for  the  time  being. 
Then  she  bethought  herself  of  the  book  she 
had  been  reading  when  Creighton  had  rung 
the  door-bell  and  brought  in  the  worsted 
hero.  What  had  she  done  with  it  ?  She 
must  have  left  it  in  the  sitting  room.  She 
started  to  go  down  for  it,  walking  lightly, 
that  Puggy-Wuggy  might  not  be  jarred  and 
awakened. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER      55 

The  sitting  room  was  empty.  She  had 
supposed  it  would  be.  If  she  had  thought 
about  the  matter  at  all,  she  would  have 
taken  it  for  granted  that  when  her  father 
had  come  in  he  had  spoken  with  Creigh- 
ton,  and  that  both  of  them  had  gone  out 
again. 

As  she  came  to  the  middle  of  the  room 
she  heard  a  faint  sound  in  the  dining 
room.  She  stopped.  She  was  standing  in 
the  very  same  spot  in  which  Creighton 
had  been  standing  when  he  had  seen 
Captain  Norris  counting  the  handful  of 
cash.  The  portieres  were  just  as  they  had 
been  then.  So  she,  too,  saw  what  was 
going  on  at  the  desk,  saw  the  private 
kneeling,  the  top  drawer  on  the  floor 
beside  him,  saw  him  putting  his  hand 
through  the  opening  and  taking  out  a 
lot  of  silver.  He  slipped  it  into  a 


56       THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

pocket  of  his  blouse  with  the  most  sur 
prising  dexterity.  It  was  so  quickly  done 
that  she  could  almost  have  doubted  that 
it  was  done  at  all. 

Creighton  waited  an  instant,  looking 
around.  Marian  stood  stiff  with  fear. 
But  he  did  not  seem  to  see  her.  He  put 
in  his  hand  again  and  brought  forth  a 
little  more  money.  It  went  the  way  of 
the  rest.  Then  he  took  up  the  drawer 
and  slid  it  into  place.  He  was  even  very 
careful  to  leave  it  just  a  trifle  open. 

Marian  was  thinking  quickly.  She  was 
very  thoroughly  frightened.  If  she  had 
been  less  so,  she  might  not  have  made  so 
many  mistakes. 

They  were  the  troop  funds  that  Creigh 
ton  was  taking.  Her  father  always  kept 
them  there  until  they  were  in  large  enough 
amounts  to  be  worth  depositing  in  the 


"MARIAN  STOOD  STIFF  WITH  FEAK.' 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER       59 

sutler's  safe.  He  had  done  this  for  years. 
It  would  be  serious  for  the  troop  funds 
to  be  missing. 

But  she  dared  not  stop  it  now.  There 
were  very  few  things  she  was  really  afraid 
of — but  she  was  afraid  of  a  burglar.  It 
was  quite  probably  because  she  had  never 
had  the  very  least  experience  with  one  be 
fore.  If  Creighton  were  to  see  her  now, 
she  thought,  —  if  he  were  to  guess  that 
she  had  seen  him, — he  might  do  anything. 
He  might  even  kill  her.  Burglars  some 
times  killed  people.  She  had  read  of  it. 

Creighton  was  coming  toward  the  sitting 
room.  Before  she  knew  what  she  was 
doing  she  was  behind  a  heavy  window  cur 
tain,  pressing  far  back,  holding  in  her 
skirts,  trying  to  stop  the  thumping  noise 
of  her  heart. 

She   was    sure    that    Creighton   must   see 


60      THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

her,  even  as  it  was.  She  could  see  him 
perfectly.  He  had  pushed  aside  the  por 
tieres  and  come  back  into  the  sitting  room. 
He  stood  there  in  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
peering  around  him,  listening. 

Marian  tried  not  to  breathe.  She  saw 
him  glance  up  at  the  ceiling,  and  she 
guessed  that  he  was  wondering  whether  or 
not  she  was  still  on  the  upper  floor.  He 
seemed  to  be  uneasy  at  hearing  no  sound, 
and  he  peered  around  the  room  again. 

But  either  Marian  was  well  hidden,  or 
his  eyes  were  not  accustomed  to  the  half- 
light.  At  any  rate,  he  still  did  not  see 
her.  His  composure  began  to  come  back. 

Creighton  stood  still  in  the  middle  of 
the  room.  He  took  the  bandage  roll 
from  his  pocket,  deliberately  unwound  a 
good  deal  of  it,  and  deliberately  began  to 
wind  it  up  again,  taking  considerable  pains. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER      61 

It  was  evidently  his  intention  —  if  Marian 
was  coming  downstairs  —  to  be  found 
peaceably  repairing  the  havoc  her  dog  had 
wrought,  not  sneaking  hurriedly  out  of 
the  house.  His  coolness  was  astounding. 
His  hand  was  perfectly  steady.  Marian 
noticed  it.  Her  own  hand  was  shaking 
hard. 

Was  he  never  going  to  go  ?  He  would 
hear  her  breathing  soon.  She  would  make 
some  move,  and  then  — 

But  Creighton  was  far  from  being  in  a 
hurry.  He  took  his  own  good  time  with 
the  strip  of  cloth.  When  he  had  rolled 
it  all  up  once  more,  he  went  out  into  the 
hallway  and  looked  around.  But  there 
was  no  one  in  sight. 

He  came  back  to  the  sitting  room. 
His  eyes  stopped  at  the  window.  Mar 
ian's  heart  stopped  too.  The  eyes  passed 


on.  The  heart  went  again  in  big,  wild 
bumps. 

Creighton  crossed  over  to  the  lounge, 
and  took  up  his  forage  cap.  From  there, 
when  he  should  face  about,  Marian  would 
be  in  full  sight.  She  braced  herself,  head 
up,  ready.  The  fear  had  reached  that 
point  where  she  was  brave  again. 

But  Creighton  did  not  face  about. 
Without  another  glance  he  went  out  into 
the  hall  and  walked  down  it  slowly.  He 
opened  the  back  door  with  a  good  deal 
of  noise,  and  shut  it  with  an  intentional 
bang. 

Marian  came  out  from  her  hiding-place, 
and  ran  into  the  dining  room.  There  was 
a  window  which  looked  out  upon  the  back 
yard,  and  she  could  see  Creighton  saunter 
ing  down  to  the  gate  with  his  hands  in 
his  trousers  pockets.  Presently  he  broke 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER      63 

out  into  whistling.  The  back  gate  stood 
open.  He  paused  there  a  moment  and 
looked  back.  Then  he  turned  to  the 
right  and  was  gone. 

Marian  stood  staring  at  the  gate  posts 
a  while.  Then  she  considered  the  desk. 
Her  own  life  was  safe  —  for  the  moment,  — 
but  the  rest  of  the  trouble  was  just 
begun. 


CHAPTER   III 

MARIAN  came  out  upon  the  front  porch. 
Her  face  was  very  white,  her  eyes  were 
wide,  and  her  hand  shook  so  that  she 
could  hardly  turn  the  knob.  Any  one 
might  have  seen  that  she  was  badly 
scared.  But  Beveridge  was  far  too  much 
excited  over  something  else. 

As  she  had  come  hurrying  out  of  the 
lonesome  house,  meaning  to  call  the  first 
officer  that  passed  and  have  Creighton 
arrested,  Louis  had  come  running  up  the 
steps.  He  was  all  but  breathless.  Had 
she  heard  the  news  ?  For  the  instant  her 
own  was  driven  out  of  her  head  by  the 
question. 

"It's  an  outbreak,"  he  announced; 
64 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER      65 

"  a  band  of  Hot  Springs  has  left  the 
reservation." 

He  was  not  a  little  proud  of  his  glib- 
ness  with  the  terms.  The  keen  interest 
went  out  of  Marian's  face,  nevertheless. 
There  had  been  two  or  three  outbreaks 
a  year,  rumored  or  real,  during  the  sixteen 
years  of  her  life.  It  was  hardly  to  be 
expected,  in  view  of  that  average,  that 
she  should  show  very  much  concern. 

Beveridge  felt  that  his  effect  had  failed. 
It  was  his  first  experience  of  the  sort,  and 
his  enthusiasm  had  been  a  good  deal 
aroused.  His  own  face  fell  a  trifle. 

He  persisted,  nevertheless.  "They've 
killed  a  whole  family  of  ranchmen,"  he 
said. 

Marian  pursed  her  lips  incredulously. 
Maybe  they  had  —  and  then  again,  maybe 
they  hadn't,  she  told  him  with  the  supe- 


66       THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

rior  wisdom  of  much  experience.  "  They 
always  start  rumors  like  that.  Sometimes 
they're  true,  and  generally  they're  not. 
And  they  are  almost  always  exaggerated. 
Why,  I  remember  once  at  one  of  the  posts 
the  hospital  steward's  little  girl  came  rush 
ing  down  to  tell  me  that  the  Indians  were 
trying  to  kill  her  family,  —  and  the  Indians 
were  twenty  miles  away.  That's  how 
frightened  they  can  get  sometimes." 

"  Well,  anyway,"  he  stuck  to  it,  bound 
to  have  the  worth  of  his  news,  "  they're 
sending  out  troops  from  here." 

"Troops,"  she  wanted  to  know  —  quite 
annoyingly  unmoved  still,  "  or  a  troop  ?  " 

"A  troop,"  Louis  was  obliged  to  admit, 
feeling  that  the  bottom  was  falling  entirely 
out  of  his  little  effect.  " f  D  '  Troop,"  he 
added. 

As   "  D "    Troop    was    not    her    father's, 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER      67 

Marian's  interest  grew  even  less.  "All 
of  it,"  she  inquired,  "  or  just  a  detach 
ment  ? " 

It  was  just  a  detachment.  How  was 
enthusiasm  to  last,  brought  into  contact 
with  this  matter-of-fact?  How  was  one 
to  impress  a  girl  who  apparently  ranked  an 
Apache  outbreak  with  a  dress  parade  ? 

It  was  probable,  however,  that  Marian's 
interest  in  the  outbreak  would  not  have 
been  so  small  if  her  interest  in  Creighton's 
theft  had  not  been  so  great.  Apaches 
on  the  war-path  had  come — more  or  less 
remotely  —  into  her  experience,  before.  To 
have  caught  a  thief  in  the  very  act  never 
had.  A  band  of  Hot  Springs  a  good 
many  miles  away  were  by  no  means  so 
terrifying  as  a  live  burglar  in  the  very 
same  room  with  one.  She  preferred  at  that 
particular  moment  to  talk  about  burglars. 


68       THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

Nevertheless  her  excitement  about  that 
had  received  a  slight  check.  And  she  felt 
she  had  been  too  cool  about  the  question 
of  the  Indians  to  show  agitation  now.  She 
conceived  the  idea  of  being  exceedingly 
cautious  and  diplomatic.  So  she  took 
Louis  over  to  a  corner  of  the  porch  where 
they  might  talk  at  leisure. 

It  was  well  into  the  autumn,  and  the 
leaves  were  quite  gone  from  the  crow's-foot 
vines  which,  in  summer,  screened  the  porch. 
But  the  days  had  been  warm,  and  the 
hammock  and  some  chairs  were  still  in 
their  places.  Marian  sat  herself  in  the 
hammock,  and  Louis  stretched  out  in  a 
long  leather  chair,  cut  and  stamped  elab 
orately  by  the  post  saddler,  as  a  Christ 
mas  present  to  Captain  Norris's  daughter. 

Louis  was  willing  enough  to  drop  the 
subject  of  outbreaks,  for  the  present.  He 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER      69 

felt  that  he  had  "showed  the  tenderfoot." 
And  Marian  was  anxious  to  get  to  the 
subject  of  thieves.  But  she  did  not  want 
to  go  at  it  directly.  She  had  some  doubts 
about  telling  the  story  to  a  civilian  first  — 
when  it  was  so  evidently  an  official  affair. 
Besides,  she  knew  that  Louis  had  an  excel 
lent  opinion  of  her  courage.  She  did  not 
want  the  opinion  to  lower.  And  she  was 
aware,  too,  that  her  conduct  in  this  par 
ticular  case  had  not  been  quite  brave. 

A  pause  ensued. 

It  was  Louis  who  broke  it,  and  who 
led  up  to  the  subject  for  her  —  at  one 
and  the  same  time. 

Marian's  hair  was  very  long  and  very 
thick,  and  just  now  it  was  done  in  a  long 
cable  of  a  braid.  She  had  the  braid  over  her 
shoulder,  and  the  end  of  it  in  her  hand,  as 
she  balanced  to  and  fro  in  the  hammock. 


70       THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

Louis    looked   at   the  braid  and    smiled. 

"  Golden- Locks,"  he  remarked. 

That  was  her  opening.  The  subject 
of  gold  once  brought  up,  it  was  not  so 
hard  to  lead  around  to  that  of  money,  and 
from  there  to  the  matter  of  thieves. 
Marian  managed  it  rather  cleverly,  forc 
ing  the  issue  a  good  deal,  to  be  sure ; 
but  Louis  was  not  on  the  watch  for  any 
thing,  and  he  did  not  suspect. 

"What  would  you  do,"  asked  Marian, 
"  if  you  were  to  go  into  a  room  suddenly 
and  find  a  thief  there  —  find  him  stealing 
things  ?  If  the  thief  didn't  see  you,  I 
mean  ? " 

"  Unless  he  happened  to  be  bigger 
than  I  am,  —  or  better  armed,  —  I  rather 
think  I'd  prevail  upon  him  to  put  the 
things  back  and  clear  out." 

"  Yes,"    said      Marian,    leaning    eagerly 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER       71 

forward,  "  but  if  he  were  bigger  —  or  better 
armed  —  would  you  call  somebody  to 
catch  him  ?  " 

"Depends,"  said  Beveridge,  judicially  — 
"  depends  on  the  kind  of  fellow  the  thief 
was.  If  he  were  just  an  ordinary  burglar, 
of  course  I'd  try  to  have  him  caught. 
But  if  I  knew  something  about  him  and 
thought  he  wasn't  generally  such  a  bad 
lot,  I  expect  I'd  give  him  the  chance  to 
put  the  things  back,  first.  You  might 
as  well  give  every  fellow  his  chance." 
Louis  was  tolerant  and  easy-going.  "You 
can't  always  tell  what  the  temptations  may 
have  been.  Sometimes  men  steal  to  help 
those  who  are  dependent  on  them." 

From  which  it  may  be  seen  that  for  all 
that  followed  thereafter,  Louis  was  not  a 
little  responsible.  He  had  put  an  entirely 
new  idea  into  Marian's  head.  She  had 


72       THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

had  no  notion  of  letting  Creighton  go  un- 
arrested.  She  had  meant  merely  to  wait 
until  her  father  should  return  and  then  to 
tell  him  quietly,  so  as  to  make  no  fuss 
about  it. 

But  here  was  another  view  of  the  case. 
And  as  it  was  a  rather  sentimental  one,  it 
naturally  appealed  to  a  girl.  The  only 
difficulty  was  that  a  girl's  judgment  is  not 
likely  to  be  heavy  enough  to  balance  the 
sentiment.  It  struck  Marian  as  a  lovely, 
charitable  idea. 

"  Yes,"  repeated  Louis,  considering  what 
was  —  so  far  as  he  knew  —  a  purely  imag 
inary  case,  "  I'd  give  him  his  chance.  He 
might  perhaps  reform  and  turn  out  a  very 
decent  sort  of  chap.  Whereas  if  you  had 
him  arrested  first  thing,  he'd  be  tried  and 
jailed,  and  he'd  never  stand  much  show 
of  leading  an  honest  life  after  that,  —  un- 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER       73 

less,"  some  recollection  seemed  to  come 
to  him,  "  unless  he  should  skip  the  country 
and  assume  another  name." 

Marian  sat  thinking.  Then  she  took 
her  resolve.  She  would  let  Creighton  have 
his  chance.  He  was  such  a  pleasant-faced 
young  fellow  —  and  he  had  been  so  care 
ful  of  Puggy-Wuggy's  wounds.  Marian's 
heart  was  a  tender  one,  and  she  was  in 
clined  to  believe  that  a  man  who  was  good 
to  a  dog  was,  of  necessity,  a  good  man. 

The  matter  being  thus  settled  to  her 
temporary  satisfaction,  she  was  ready  to 
go  back  to  the  subject  of  outbreaks  and 
Indians.  And  just  at  that  moment,  he 
who  was,  to  her  mind,  the  greatest  living 
authority  upon  such  subjects,  appeared  com 
ing  toward  the  house.  It  was  Haggarty. 

He  came  upon  the  porch  and  saw  Bev- 
eridge  stretched  out  in  the  chair.  Hag- 


74      THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

garty  did  not,  as  yet,  look  with  favor  upon 
Beveridge.  The  youth  was  still  a  tender 
foot,  and  it  would  take  time  and  a  lot  of 
experience  to  make  him  anything  else. 
Also  he  thought  that  the  army  young 
people  should  be  good  enough  for  Miss 
Marian.  There  were  none  of  her  own 
age  in  the  post,  but  Haggarty  chose  to 
ignore  that  fact. 

He  answered  Beveridge's  good-humored 
greeting  with  extreme  formality.  "  Good 
day,  sor,"  he  said.  When  Haggarty's  man 
ners  were  the  most  elaborate,  his  brogue  was 
the  most  thick. 

"  Haggarty,"  began  Marian,  promptly, 
swinging  herself  back  and  forth  with  the 
point  of  her  toe,  "  what's  all  this  about 
an  outbreak  on  the  Aguas  Calientes  reserva 
tion  ?  Is  it  so  —  that  they  have  massacred  a 
whole  family  ? " 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER       75 

According  to  Haggarty,  it  was  not  so. 
"  They  ain't  massacred  nothing  except  some 
of  their  own  ponies  that  they  cooked  and 
et,  I  guess.  There  was  a  cow-puncher 
scared  out  of  his  wits  that  wanted  to  get  up 
a  whole  war.  He  rode  in  and  reported  a 
family  was  being  scalped  when  he  lit  out. 
Come  to  boil  it  down,  there  was  just  one 
storekeeper  shot  in  the  arm  by  some  hos- 
tiles  on  the  run  that  was  tryin'  to  pot  him 
for  the  luck  of  it." 

So  far  there  had  been  twenty-five  men 
from  "  D "  Troop  ordered  out.  Those 
were  to  leave  in  half  an  hour. 

Then  Haggarty,  having  given  the  in 
formation,  asked  for  news  of  Puggy-Wuggy. 
As  it  had  been  his  own  dog  who  had  done 
the  damage,  he  felt,  in  a  measure,  to  blame. 
Skeezicks  himself  was  sitting  out  at  the  foot 
of  the  steps,  the  picture  of  dejection  and 


76       THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

disgrace,  watching  his  master  beseechingly 
for  the  first  signs  of  a  willingness  to  forgive. 

"  That  there  Creighton  could  have 
stopped  the  fight  before  it  was  began,"  he 
told  Marian,  "  only  he  thought  he'd  be 
funny  and  sick  'em  on." 

Now  this  was  news  to  Marian.  Creigh 
ton  himself  had  not  represented  it  to  her  in 
just  that  way.  She  took  it,  however,  with 
reservations.  Haggarty  might  be  relied 
upon  to  tell  the  truth  concerning  Indians 
and  scouts,  but  not  always  concerning  a 
recruit. 

Creighton  had  done  the  bandaging  very 
kindly  and  skilfully,  she  gave  Haggarty  to 
understand.  Haggarty  sniffed,  but  made 
no  further  comment.  He  was  beginning  to 
believe  that  Miss  Marian  was  acquiring  a 
liking  for  tenderfeet.  He  took  his  depar 
ture  in  a  moment. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER      77 

"  Queer  lot — but  nice  sort  of  old  duffer," 
said  Beveridge,  rising.  He  knew  better 
now  than  to  permit  himself  to  laugh  at  Hag- 
garty  in  Marian's  presence.  "  I'm  going 
down  to  see  f  D  '  Troop  off,"  he  added. 
"  Get  your  sombrero  and  come  along." 

Marian  shook  her  head.  She  had  seen 
bigger  sights  than  a  little  handful  of  men 
starting  off,  and  besides  —  she  had  other 
plans.  She  wanted  to  be  left  alone. 

The  cook  had  returned  from  her  visit  to 
the  laundress  row,  the  striker  was  piling 
more  wood  in  the  chest,  the  fire  had  been 
heaped  with  pine  knots,  and  the  house  was 
no  longer  deserted  and  silent.  Marian 
could  not  but  glance  at  the  place  where  she 
had  seen  Creighton  kneeling  above  the 
drawer,  too  intent  to  notice  her;  but  she 
drew  a  big  chair  before  the  fireplace  and  sat 
down  to  think. 


78      THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

It  was  too  late  in  the  afternoon  for  any 
thing  to  be  done  now.  She  must  wait  to 
see  Creighton  until  the  next  day.  And  she 
could  only  hope  that  between  now  and  then 
her  father  would  not  go  into  the  drawer 
where  he  kept  his  funds.  At  any  rate,  she 
would  have  to  take  that  risk.  He  had  been 
so  nice  about  Puggy-Wuggy  —  Creighton 
had.  He  must  be  given  his  chance. 
Marian  decided  that  this  was  her  decision. 

It  was  that  which  had  always  been 
Marian's  trouble  —  had  gotten  her  into 
difficulties  before,  though  never  such  as 
were  in  front  of  her  now.  She  was  always 
a  good  deal  too  ready  to  rely  upon  her  own 
judgment  —  to  make  up  her  mind  for  her 
self,  regardless  of  the  opinions  of  older  and 
wiser  minds.  It  was  not  exactly  that  she 
was  either  headstrong  or  spoiled  —  only  that 
she  carried  independence  a  trifle  too  far. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER       79 

As  if  Fate,  too,  intended  that  Creighton 
should  have  his  chance,  Captain  Norris  did 
not  go  into  the  particular  drawer  where 
his  troop  funds  were  kept,  that  night. 
But  he  was  doing  a  good  deal  of  work 
about  the  desk,  and  Marian's  heart  was  in 
her  mouth  at  every  move  he  made. 

Also,  just  before  retreat,  who  should  have 
come  coolly  ringing  the  front  door-bell 
but  Creighton  himself?  And  he  stood 
talking  to  the  Captain  for  some  little  time. 
Marian,  watching,  had  wondered  if  the 
money  he  had  taken  were  in  his  pocket 
at  that  very  minute. 

When  she  went  upstairs  to  bed  —  with 
Puggy-Wuggy,  stiff  and  sore,  sleeping  un 
easily  in  his  basket  near  by  —  she  lay  for 
what  seemed  to  her  to  be  long  hours, 
planning  how  she  should  manage  to  see 
Creighton  alone  the  next  day.  It  was  by 


8o      THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

no  means  so  easy  for  an  officer's  daughter 
to  bring  about  the  chance  of  seeing  a 
private  whenever  she  wished.  At  last, 
however,  she  bethought  herself  of  a  scheme  ; 
then  she  fell  asleep. 

Well  before  reveille  she  was  up  and 
dressed  in  her  riding-habit;  and  just  as 
first  call  sounded  she  saw  the  striker  passing 
beneath  her  window.  She  rapped  with  the 
tips  of  her  fingers  on  the  glass.  Story  looked 
up,  and  Marian  raised  the  window  quietly. 
She  leaned  out  into  the  sharp  morning  air 
and  told  him  to  bring  up  her  horse. 

It  was  by  no  means  unusual  for  Miss 
Marian  to  go  riding  before  breakfast. 
Story  went  off  in  the  direction  of  the 
stables,  and  came  back  directly,  riding  girl- 
fashion  on  Marian's  side-saddle,  with  Nat 
chez —  lively  in  the  cool  of  the  daybreak 
—  swinging  along  at  his  fastest  trot. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER       81 

Marian  mounted  and  rode  up  to  the 
hospital.  The  hospital  steward  and 
Marian  had  been  good  friends  since  the 
days  when  he  had  devised  dyes  for  her 
Easter  eggs,  and  the  more  recent  days 
when  he  had  made  death  easy  for  one  or 
two  of  her  disabled  pets.  She  meant  to 
ask  him  now  for  advice  concerning  the 
injuries  of  Puggy-Wuggy.  But  what  she 
meant  still  more  to  do  was  to  see  Creigh- 
ton  before  he  should  go  back  to  duty  and 
the  barracks ;  which  he  would  do  after 
sick-call.  And  sick-call  was  not  far  off. 
There  was  need  for  haste.  If  Creighton 
were  not  in  sight,  she  intended  to  ask  for 
him  —  let  the  steward  and  all  the  others 
wonder  as  they  might. 

But  it  happened  that  Creighton  was 
walking  up  and  down  upon  the  long,  wide 
porch.  It  might  have  been,  from  her  ap- 


82       THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

pearance  as  she  went  up  to  him,  Marian 
herself  upon  whose  conscience  was  the 
guilt.  She  was  hardly  less  frightened  now 
than  she  had  been  the  day  before ;  and 
her  face  was  quite  as  white. 

As  for  Creighton,  he  did  not  lose  any 
of  his  fresh,  boyish  color,  just  at  first. 
He  raised  his  cap  as  the  girl,  lifting  her 
long  riding-skirt,  came  toward  him. 

Marian  hesitated.  She  had  planned  it 
that  she  would  lead  up  to  the  subject 
gradually.  But  she  was  far  too  nervous  for 
diplomacy  now — and  sick-call  might  sound 
at  any  time.  Then  her  chance  would  be 
gone. 

She  glanced  at  the  windows  of  the  wards, 
beyond  which  the  iron  bunks  stood  in  rows. 
The  sashes  were  down.  There  was  no  one 
to  hear. 

She  rested  a  shaking  hand  upon  the  rail. 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER       83 

Then  she  came  straight  and  abruptly  to 
the  point. 

"  I  want  you  to  give  me  back  the 
money  you  took  yesterday,"  she  said. 

It  was  Creighton  who  went  pale  now. 
But  not  even  for  the  first  instant  did  he 
lose  his  self-control.  He  looked  puzzled, 
drawing  his  brows  together.  His  eyes 
never  dropped. 

"The  money,  Miss  Norris  ? "  he  asked, 
quite  evenly.  "  I  am  afraid  I  don't  un 
derstand." 

Marian's  color  came  rushing  back  in  a 
flush  of  angry  annoyance.  It  was  too 
bad  of  him,  when  she  was  taking  such 
great  risks  to  give  him  his  chance !  He 
should  have  behaved  more  gratefully  than 
this. 

"  I  saw  you,"  she  said  shortly ;  "  I  was 
standing  in  the  sitting  room  part  of  the 


84       THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

time,  and  I  saw  you.  So  there  isn't  the 
least  use  in  the  world  pretending  you  don't 
know  what  I  mean." 

But  Creighton  was  gaining  time.  "  Saw 
what  ? "  he  parried ;  "I'm  sorry  I  must 
bother  you  to  explain." 

Marian's  blue  eyes  flashed  angrily,  and 
she  did  explain.  She  was  not  long  about 
it;  but  when  she  had  finished,  there  could 
be  no  doubt  that  he  was  bound  to  under 
stand  whether  he  liked  or  not. 

"  I  was  afraid  to  speak  to  you  then," 
she  admitted  openly  now,  "  but  I  was 
going  to  call  somebody  just  as  soon  as 
you  left  the  house.  Then  "  —  she  decided, 
on  the  moment,  not  to  bring  Beveridge 
into  it  — "  then  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  I'd  give  you  a  chance.  I  haven't 
even  told  my  father,  and  he  hasn't  been 
into  his  box.  If  you  give  me  the  money 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER       85 

now,  I'll  put  it  back  in  the  box  myself, 
and  nobody  will  ever  know." 

She  waited,  but  Creighton  did  not  an 
swer  at  once.  "  If  you  don't,"  she  added 
decisively,  "  I'll  go  back  and  tell  the  whole 
thing — and  then  —  "she  left  the  conse 
quences  for  him  to  fill  out  himself. 
"  You'd  better  hurry,  too,"  she  added. 
"  If  sick-call  goes  and  the  doctor  comes 
over,  it  will  be  too  late." 

Creighton  looked  nervously  at  the  hall 
way  and  the  open  door.  He  moved  a 
little  farther  away,  and  Marian  followed 
him. 

Then  he  spoke,  and  all  the  confidence 
was  gone  from  his  voice. 

"  I  haven't  got  the  money,  Miss  Nor- 
ris,"  he  said.  And  she  believed  from  the 
very  tone  that  it  was  true. 

She   stood   looking    at   him,   wide   eyed. 


86      THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

It  was  for  herself  she  was  frightened  now. 
It  would  be  through  herself,  through  her 
own  interference  and  meddling,  that  her 
father  would  be  short  in  the  troop  funds. 
The  seriousness  of  the  situation  flashed 
upon  her.  She  backed  off  toward  the 
nearest  pillar  and  leaned  against  it,  still 
with  her  wide  eyes  watching  Creighton's 
face. 

Just  at  the  moment  the  first  notes  of 
sick-call  sounded  from  over  in  the  quad 
rangle. 

Marian  turned  her  head  and  looked  in 
the  direction  of  the  doctor's  quarters. 
The  doctor  was  already  coming  out  of  his 
back  gate.  There  was  no  more  time  to  be 
lost.  She  gathered  her  strength  as  best 
she  could  and  stood  erect.  It  would  never 
do  for  the  doctor  to  see  her  trembling  and 
frightened,  talking  to  the  recruit. 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER       87 

Her  voice  was  almost  steady  when  she 
spoke  again.  "  Then  I  must  tell  my 
father,"  she  said  with  decision.  "  I  must 
tell  him  at  once." 

Creighton  took  a  step  toward  her. 
"Don't  do  that,"  he  said.  "You  haven't 
given  me  my  fair  chance  yet.  Wait  until 
I  have  my  chance." 

Marian  demurred.     "But  —  "  she  began. 

Creighton  saw  the  advantage.  He  cut 
in,  following  it  up  hurriedly.  "  Give  me 
my  chance,"  he  reiterated,  ringing  the 
changes  upon  her  own  idea.  "  Wait  until 
this  afternoon.  I  go  back  to  duty  to-day," 
he  was  speaking  with  breathless  haste.  "  I 
will  be  at  the  stables  this  afternoon.  If 
you  will  go  down  to  see  your  own  horse, 
or  something  — "  He  stopped,  studying 
her  face  with  the  keenest  anxiety. 

She    was    very    dubious.     Her     father's 


88       THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

anger  would  be  great  enough  if  he  should 
learn  about  the  money.  It  would  be  sim 
ply  dreadful  if  he  should  know  of  her 
going  to  hospitals  and  troop-stables  to 
meet  the  recruit  who  had  taken  it.  The 
best  she  could  possibly  hope  for  then 
would  be  to  be  sent  East  to  boarding- 
school —  the  one  thing  she  most  dreaded 
in  all  the  world. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I  can't  do  it," 
she  told  him. 

Creighton  leaned  forward,  clasping  his 
hands.  "  My  chance ! "  he  urged  her. 
"  Give  me  my  chance,"  he  begged. 

The  steps  of  the  doctor  could  be  heard 
on  the  path. 

"  How  much  did  you  take  ? "  said 
Marian. 

He  told  her.  Thirty  dollars  it  had 
been.  Thirty  dollars !  It  was  precisely 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER       89 

the  amount  in  her  savings  bank  at  home. 
"  You  are  certain  ?  "  she  questioned. 

He  nodded  emphatically.  "  Certain," 
he  said. 

The  steps  of  the  doctor  were  very  near. 
And  still,  for  another  moment,  Marian 
delayed.  There  was  no  more  time  to 
waste.  Marian  took  the  plunge. 

"  Very  well,"  she  began ;  "  but  only 
until  this  afternoon,  remember." 

The  steward  had  stepped  upon  the 
porch.  Marian  went  up  to  him  and  ex 
plained  concerning  Puggy-Wuggy's  injuries. 
Was  she  too  late  to  be  attended  to  now  ? 

The  steward  looked  to  where  the  doctor 
had  stopped  on  the  pathway  to  speak  to 
another  officer.  There  would  be  still,  per 
haps,  a  few  minutes  to  spare.  He  turned 
back  down  the  hall  and  led  the  way  to 
the  dispensary. 


9o       THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

"  Seems  that's  a  savage  big  brute  of 
yours,"  he  said,  laughing.  The  fame 
of  the  fight  had  gone  abroad. 

"  He's  a  sorry  small  dog  just  at  pres 
ent,"  Marian  told  him,  trying  to  laugh 
too.  She  looked  over  her  shoulder  to 
the  corner  of  the  porch  where  she  and 
Creighton  had  been  standing. 

The  porch  was  empty.  Creighton  had 
disappeared. 


CHAPTER   IV 

"WE  used  to  think,"  said  Marian,  sit 
ting  on  the  edge  of  the  feed-box,  pulling 
Natchez'  head  down  by  the  forelock  and 
whispering  confidentially  into  his  pricking, 
black  ear  —  "we  used  to  think  that  it 
would  be  all  sorts  of  fun  and  excitement 
to  be  in  a  plot,  didn't  we  ?  But  now  that 
we're  in  one  —  in  it  with  both  feet  and  all 
four  hoofs  —  it  isn't  half  the  lark  that  it's 
supposed  to  be.  Is  it,  old  fellow  ? " 

Natchez  shook  his  head,  perhaps  in 
negative,  perhaps  because  she  was  tickling 
his  ear. 

"  It's  precious  uncomfortable,  we  think, 
don't  we  ? "  she  insisted,  tugging  at  the 
forelock.  But  if  Natchez  was  uncomfort- 


92       THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

able,  he  did  not  show  any  signs  of  it. 
The  thing  he  was  interested  in  was  sugar, 
and  he  was  nosing  around  the  pocket 
from  which  she  had  just  produced  one 
lump.  Another  was  forthcoming.  He 
nuzzled  it  from  her  palm  and  scrunched 
it  leisurely.  Plots  might  be  bothering 
human  girls,  but  they  left  the  consciences 
of  well-mannered  and  gentle  black  horses 
entirely  at  rest.  If  his  mistress  would 
come  down  after  stables  —  after  he  had 
been  all  nicely  curried  and  groomed  and 
watered  and  fed,  and  would  bring  him 
cut  loaf-sugar  by  way  of  dessert,  he  had 
little  else  in  the  world  to  wish  for  —  ex 
cepting  more  sugar,  of  course.  And  he 
was  asking  for  that  again.  But  this  time 
his  mistress  was  paying  no  heed.  She 
pushed  his  soft  nose  away  and  got  down 
from  the  feed-box  so  abruptly  as  to  make 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER      93 

him  throw  back,  his  head  and  strain  at 
his  halter-shank. 

Then  she  walked  out  to  the  open  space 
of  the  corral  between  the  two  rows  of  stalls, 
and  stood  there.  Creighton,  still  in  his 
white  stable  suit,  was  in  the  gateway  look 
ing  around.  He  saw  her  now  and  came 
down  to  her. 

For  the  moment  the  corral  was  empty. 
But  the  two  men  who  were  policing  it 
would  be  going  back  and  forth,  and  the 
farrier  and  a  private  were  in  the  grain  room 
near  the  gate. 

Creighton  knew  these  things,  and  the  pri 
vacy  was  not  so  great  as  he  would  have 
liked.  He  suggested  as  much  to  Marian. 
But  Marian  was  by  no  means  minded  to 
have  any  more  appearance  of  secrecy  than  was 
absolutely  necessary.  As  she  had  confided 
to  Natchez,  being  in  plots  was  not  pleasant. 


94      THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

She  was  far  from  being  as  nervous  as 
she  had  been  that  morning.  She  had  her 
self  and  the  whole  situation  much  better 
in  hand.  So  long  as  they  were  to  stay  in 
full  sight,  in  the  centre  of  the  corral,  it 
was  probable  that  very  little  attention 
would  be  paid  to  them. 

"We  will  stand  here,"  she  said  to 
Creighton,  decisively.  And  then  she  went 
to  the  matter  without  delay. 

Had  he  brought  the  money?  she  wanted 
to  know.  He  answered  her  as  directly. 
He  had  not. 

She  stood  looking  up  at  him  in  blank 
dismay.  But  he  hurried  on  to  explain, 
flushing  up  to  the  line  of  his  campaign  hat 
and  the  roots  of  his  curly  light  hair.  His 
distress  was  so  perfectly  evident  that 
Marian  was  sorry  for  him,  in  spite  of  the 
fear  of  those  consequences  which  were  begin- 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER      95 

ning  to  hang  over  her  own  head.  And  as 
the  explanation  went  on,  her  sympathy  grew. 

Now  Marian's  city  life  had  been  limited ; 
she  had  not  had  much  of  it,  and  she  had 
had  no  experience  with  the  stories  of  city 
beggars.  So  it  never  occurred  to  her  to 
doubt  the  pitiful  tale  of  hard  luck  and  no 
work,  of  a  mother  and  two  little  sisters  in 
need  of  food,  of  enlistment  that  he  might 
send  them  the  greater  part  of  his  small 
pay,  of  his  hopes  of  becoming  in  time,  by 
virtue  of  hard  work  and  good  behavior, 
an  officer. 

She  had  stood  listening,  a  good  deal 
worked  upon,  but  she  interrupted  here. 
And  was  it  his  idea  of  good  behavior,  she 
asked  him,  to  be  pilfering  the  funds  of  his 
own  troop  not  a  month  after  he  had  joined  ? 
The  hurt  tears  sprang  into  his  big  blue  eyes, 
and  she  was  sorry  at  once. 


96       THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

"  When  I  brought  over  your  little  dog," 
he  said  humbly,  and  yet  reproachfully, 
"  when  I  brought  over  your  little  dog,  I 
had  just  come  from  the  sutler's  store  — 
from  the  post-office,  and  there  was  a  let 
ter  from  my  mother  in  my  pocket.  She 
told  me  that  she  was  hungry  and  cold." 

He  felt  in  his  pocket,  drew  forth  a 
folded  sheet,  and  held  it  out  to  her.  "  This 
is  the  letter,"  he  told  her.  Would  she  like 
to  see  it? 

The  fact  that  there  was  no  envelope  to 
the  letter  might  have  struck  a  more  expe 
rienced  person  as  a  little  odd.  But  though 
Marian  relied  so  much  on  her  own  expe 
rience,  she  did  not  notice  it. 

She  shook  her  head.  She  was  ready  to 
believe  him  without  reading  the  letter,  she 
told  him.  It  was  hardly  Creighton  who 
was  justifying  himself  to  her,  any  longer ; 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER       97 

it  was  rather  she  who  was  coming,  some 
how,  to  feel  herself  in  the  wrong  and  to 
justify  herself  to  him. 

She  made  haste  to  tell  him  what  she  had 
done.  The  thirty  dollars  he  had  taken  had 
been  replaced  by  the  thirty  dollars  from  her 
own  savings  bank.  "  Now,  if  father  goes  to 
counting  over  the  money,  there  won't  be 
any  missing,"  she  explained. 

Creighton's  face  lighted  with  great  relief. 
But  Marian  dashed  his  hopes,  a  little  re 
luctantly.  It  would  be  only  a  temporary 
arrangement,  she  was  obliged  to  explain. 
At  the  end  of  the  month  her  father  ex 
pected  to  add  her  thirty  dollars  to  what  she 
had  already  in  the  regular  bank  in  the  East. 
Then  if  it  were  not  there  to  give  him,  he 
would  have  to  know. 

"You  can  have  your  chance  until  then," 
she  said ;  "  I  would  give  it  to  you  for 

H 


98       THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

longer  if  I  could,  you  know.  But  that  is 
the  best  I  can  do." 

Creighton  stood  for  a  little  time,  think 
ing  hard,  looking  worried  and  perplexed. 
Then  his  mouth  shut  with  determination, 
and  he  looked  up.  He  had  made  his  plans. 
And  he  told  her  what  they  were. 

He  had  friends  from  whom  he  could  bor 
row  a  little  money  in  an  emergency.  And 
surely  this  was  an  emergency.  He  would 
write  to  them.  He  would  send  off  the 
letter  by  the  next  morning's  stage.  "  Be 
fore  the  end  of  the  month  I  will  pay  you 
back,  and  you  will  never  be  sorry  that  you 
have  given  me  my  chance,"  he  said. 

Marian  felt  sure  of  that  herself,  and  she 
told  him  so.  Then  she  left  him,  and  went 
back  to  Natchez'  stall  to  feed  him  two  more 
lumps  of  sugar,  and  to  whisper  more  confi 
dences  into  his  protestingly  twitching  ear. 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER       99 

"And  be  sure,"  she  counselled  him,  much 
more  cheerfully  than  a  little  while  past,  "  be 
sure  that  if  you  do  get  into  plots  you  give 
everybody  his  chance,  and  come  out  of  it 
all  as  well  as  your  mistress  is  going  to  do." 
Then  she  rubbed  his  satin  nose,  at  parting, 
and  went  out  of  the  stall. 

By  the  gate  of  the  corral  she  came  upon 
Haggarty.  He  looked  at  her  with  a  disap 
proval  he  made  no  attempt  to  conceal. 
Haggarty  believed  that  he  had  privileges, 
and  that,  as  he  had  carried  Miss  Marian  in 
his  arms  before  she  could  walk,  and  had 
kept  her  out  of,  or  rescued  her  from,  all 
sorts  of  scrapes  from  that  time  on,  he  was 
perfectly  justified  in  entire  frankness  now. 

"  Is  the  Captain  down  here  with  ye  ?  "  he 
wanted  to  know. 

Marian  tried  to  pass  it  off  boldly  that  he 
was  not ;  but  Haggarty  was  not  to  be 


ioo     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

thwarted  like  that.  "  Is  there  any  officer 
with  ye?" 

Marian  was  obliged  to  admit  that  there 
was  not.  "  I  was  feeding  Natchez  some 
sugar,"  she  excused  herself  guiltily,  begin 
ning  to  feel  again  the  disadvantage  of  being 
in  plots. 

"  Then  if  ye  want  to  feed  yer  horse  sugar 
that  bad,"  he  advised,  "  you  jest  send  word 
over  to  me,  or  you  tell  Story  to  look  after 
his  own  business  and  go  fetch  him  up  to 
the  line.  It  ain't  no  place  for  a  big  girl  like 
you  to  be  hanging  around  corrals.  If  you 
feel  like  feeding  Natchez  sugar  after  stables 
every  day,  you  tip  me  the  word.  I'll  ride 
him  up  to  ye  myself.  But  don't  come 
playing  around  the  corrals."  Haggarty 
lapsed  back  to  his  way  of  speech  of  the 
days  gone  by,  and  of  Miss  Marian's  short 
skirts  and  mud  pies.  "Not  unless,"  he 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     101 

added,  "  you  got  your  papa  or  some  other 
officer  along." 

He  had  his  own  ideas  about  the  proprie 
ties,  had  Haggarty.  And  Marian  knew 
quite  well,  moreover,  that  they  were  right. 

"  Now  you  promise  that,"  he  said. 
Marian  promised,  and  Haggarty's  good 
humor  was  restored.  "  That's  right,"  he 
commended,  feeling  his  sense  of  proprietor 
ship,  which  had  been  slipping  away  a  good 
deal  in  the  past  few  weeks,  restored.  Then 
he  rewarded  her  for  being  so  tractable. 

"  Seen  the  new  puppies  that  Skeezicks 
is  the  proud  father  of? "  he  asked. 
Marian  had  not  seen  them.  "Come 
along,  then,  and  I'll  show  them  to  ye." 
He  started  to  lead  the  way  toward  the 
quartermaster's  corral. 

Marian  stood  where  she  was  and  did 
not  move.  Haggarty  turned  about. 


102     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

"  Ain't  ye  comin'  ? "  he  wanted  to 
know,  surprised. 

Marian  dropped  her  eyes  and  pursed 
her  lips.  She  was  a  pattern  of  youthful 
and  feminine  modesty,  demure  to  the  last 
degree.  "  I'm  too  big  a  girl  to  be  hang 
ing  around  corrals,"  she  said. 

Haggarty  stood  for  a  minute,  undecided, 
taken  aback.  He  was  not  altogether  cer 
tain  but  that  he  ought  to  feel  himself 
hurt.  Then  gradually  a  broad,  good- 
tempered,  Hibernian  grin  broke  over  all 
his  face,  seamed  and  reddened  by  years 
and  many  scouts. 

"  Who  brought  ye  up,  I'd  like  to 
know,"  he  scoffed ;  "  come  along  and  look 
at  them  pups." 

But  Marian  held  her  ground.  She  had 
not  her  father  or  any  other  officer  along ; 
"  And  I  promised,  you  know,"  she  re 
minded  him. 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     103 

"And  sure,"  argued  Haggarty,  "who 
was  it  that  was  a  father  to  ye  many  a 
time  when  your  own  was  away  earnin' 
his  daily  hardtack  and  chasin'  the  noble 
buck  ? "  Marian  turned  and  followed 
him. 

The  quartermaster's  corral  stood  apart 
from  the  troop  corrals  and  was  much 
larger  —  a  big  square  place  enclosed  by 
adobe  walls.  The  wagons,  carts,  and  Red 
Cross  and  other  ambulances  were  kept 
there. 

The  Red  Cross  ambulance  was  pulled 
out  from  its  shelter  just  now.  It  stood  in 
the  middle  of  the  open  space,  and  half  a 
dozen  or  more  children  from  the  officers' 
line  and  the  laundress  row  were  playing 
in  it,  balancing  upon  the  tongue  and 
climbing  in  and  out. 

Anything,  from  a  dump    cart  to  a  bag- 


104    THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

gage  wagon  was  more  or  less  desirable  to 
play  in,  but  the  Red  Cross  ambulance, 
with  its  symbol  painted  large  on  the 
sides,  its  dark  and  mystery-fraught  in 
terior,  its  long  seats,  its  nooks  and  recep 
tacles,  was  better  than  all  else.  Marian 
could  remember  the  time,  not  so  far  gone 
by,  when  she  herself  had  stretched  out 
upon  the  long  leather  cushions,  imagining 
herself  a  wounded  hero,  with  entire  suc 
cess.  She  smiled  at  the  children  as  she 
followed  Haggarty  into  the  harness  room, 
where  the  puppies  were  housed. 

Louis  Beveridge  was  there  before  them. 
He  was  sitting  on  an  overturned  pail  — 
used  for  harness  washing  at  other  times  — 
and  holding,  one  in  each  hand,  an  all  but 
infinitesimal  dog  of  a  hideousness  quite 
unequalled  even  in  Marian's  experience  — 
a  wide  one,  since  no  dog  of  pedigree  is 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     105 

so  dear  to  the  true  soldier's  heart  as  a 
thoroughgoing  cur. 

Louis  put  down  one  of  the  puppies, 
and  held  the  other  out  to  exhibit  it. 
"  There  are  its  father's  spots,"  he  pointed. 
The  remnants  of  Skeezicks's  remote  coach- 
dog  ancestry  showed  in  some  sprinkled 
patches  on  the  faintly  pink  skin.  "And 
there's  an  unknown  progenitor's  curling 
tail  —  must  have  been  pug.  And  here's 
its  mother's  yaller  bristles."  The  hind  legs 
were  a  deep  umber  color.  "  Here's  a  ten 
dency  to  greyhound  in  the  muzzle,  and 
here's  the  under  jaw  of  a  bull !  It  isn't 
every  pup  that  can  show  so  many  charac 
teristics  at  the  tender  age  of  half  a  dozen 
days.  When  his  eyes  are  opened,  to  be 
consistent,  one  of  them  should  show  pink, 
and  the  other,  say  —  brown  and  blue." 

The  puppy  squealed  feebly  and  wriggled 


106     THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

in  the  broad  palm.  The  little  mother 
looked  up  with  apprehension  from  her 
place  among  the  other  five. 

Beveridge  bent  down  and  completed  the 
litter  of  six.  "  Going  to  drown  a  few  of 
them,  Haggarty  ? "  he  asked.  But  Hag- 
garty  repulsed  the  idea.  Drown  a  per 
fectly  good  puppy !  Not  he.  "  They 
was  every  last  one  of  them  promised  the 
day  they  was  born,"  he  informed  him. 
"  Puppies  like  that  ain't  so  easy  to  get." 

Louis  was  convinced  of  that.  "  It  isn't 
often  you  can  own  so  many  sorts  of  dogs 
in  one,"  he  confessed.  Then  he  took  a 
bridle  from  the  wall.  "  I  came  down  to 
see  about  this  bit  of  mine,"  he  explained. 
"I'm  just  a  civilian,  you  know  —  haven't 
any  official  standing  except  that  of  camp- 
follower —  and  my  uncle's  only  a  Dough 
boy,  besides.  So  my  horse  can't  go  into 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     107 

the  cavalry  stables.  He  has  to  be  kept 
in  the  Q-M.  corral  —  along  with  the 
wagons  and  the  mules  and  a  few  cows." 

He  turned  to  Haggarty.  "  Now  this 
bit  of  mine" — he  held  it  out  to  him;  "I 
think  there's  too  much  length  of  shank  to 
it,  and  it's  too  narrow."  He  fell  to  dis 
cussing  the  matter  with  an  amount  of  in 
telligence  that  sent  him  up  in  the  old 
soldier's  estimation  at  once. 

Marian,  as  she  bent  over  the  box  of 
puppies,  glanced  up  sidewise,  and  then 
turned  quickly  back  again  to  hide  the 
smile  that  came  as  she  saw  Haggarty's 
expression  of  unwillingly  growing  respect. 

He  took  the  bridle  from  Beveridge. 
"  You  wait  here,"  he  commanded,  "  and 
I'll  go  try  this  on  yer  horse  and  see 
where  it  don't  fit  right.  And  then,"  he 
volunteered,  with  the  greatest  amiability, 


io8     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

"  I'll  go  see  the  blacksmith  about  it  my 
self —  or  I'll  get  ye  another  wan."  He 
went  out  into  the  corral,  leaving  the  door 
open  behind  him. 

The  children  were  still  playing  in  the 
Red  Cross  ambulance.  A  team  of  four 
gray  mules  had  just  been  unhitched  from 
a  wagon  and  left  standing  in  their  har 
nesses.  They  were  near  the  ambulance, 
and  two  of  the  larger  children  were  brav 
ing  the  chance  of  kicks  and  trying  to 
hook  the  loose  traces  to  the  ambulance's 
singletree.  Marian  noticed  them  absent- 
mindedly. 

"  That  very  pretty  little  auburn-haired 
girl  is  Martha  Lorrimer's  sister,"  she  said. 
"  You've  seen  Martha,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes/'  said  Louis.      "  She's  a  stunner." 

"  See  here,"  Marian  changed  the  subject. 
"  You'd  better  take  care ;  Haggarty  will  be 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     109 

thinking  he  owns  you  next  —  and  it  has 
some  disadvantages,  sometimes.  He's  a  dear 
of  course,  but  he  can  be  rather  a  nuisance." 

Louis  smiled.  And  then  the  smile  went 
suddenly  away.  His  face  grew  serious. 
He  crossed  the  little  room  to  a  big  pad 
locked  chest,  and  sat  upon  it. 

"  See  here,  yourself,  Miss  Marian,"  he 
began,  "  I've  got  something  to  talk  to 
you  about." 

Marian's  heart  gave  a  jump.  Being  in 
plots,  she  had  discovered  within  the  last 
four-and-twenty  hours,  gave  one's  heart  a 
tendency  to  jumps  at  the  most  trivial 
thing.  She  was  even  aware  that  she  grew 
a  little  white  —  and  still  worse,  that  Louis, 
who  was  observing  her  narrowly,  had  seen 
that  she  did. 

"I've  got  to  warn  you  about  some 
thing,"  he  continued,  with  the  utmost  de- 


no     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

liberation,  impressing  every  word.  "  But 
you  must  promise  me  this,  first — you 
must  promise  me  not  to  repeat  to  any  one 
a  thing  that  I  say." 

He  waited.  Marian  promised.  He 
went  on. 

"  You  may  remember  that  I  said  yester 
day,  when  we  were  talking  about  burglars 
and  that  sort  of  thing,  that  I  believed  in 
giving  every  fellow  his  chance.  Well,  I 
do.  That  is  the  reason  that  I  don't  want 
you  to  repeat  what  I  say."  She  nodded 
understandingly.  "  And  I  also  believe  in 
not  meddling  in  other  people's  business," 
he  kept  on,  "so  I'm  not  going  to  inquire 
what  it  was  you  were  talking  about  to  that 
fellow  who  calls  himself  Creighton,  when 
I  passed  by  the  hospital  this  morning, 
nor  when  I  passed  fL'  Troop  corral  gate 
just  a  little  while  ago." 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     in 

She  started  to  speak,  but  he  put  up  a 
silencing  hand.  "  Never  mind,"  he  ad 
vised,  "I'd  rather  not  know;  I'll  sup 
pose  it  was  about  Puggy-Wuggy  and  his 
damages.  But  what  I  want  to  say  to  you, 
is  this :  It  would  be  just  as  well  for  you 
to  have  as  little  to  say  to  that  fellow  as 
you  possibly  can.  It  isn't  the  first  time 
I've  met  him,  by  a  good  deal  —  and  I 
know  what  I'm  talking  about.  His  name 
isn't  Creighton  and  he's  not  — " 

There  was  a  rattle  and  clash  of  traces 
and  wheels  out  in  the  corral,  the  shrill  and 
frightened  screams  of  children,  and  the 
shouts  of  men.  Four  big  and  plunging 
gray  mules,  dragging  the  Red  Cross  am 
bulance  after  them,  were  starting  on  a  run 
for  the  open  gates  of  the  corral. 

Haggarty  and  another  man  were  after 
them,  but  the  mules  were  making  good 


ii2     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

time,  urged  on  by  the  screams  and  by  the 
off  wheeler,  who  was  stinging  still  from  the 
blow  of  a  sharp-pointed  stone  that  one  of 
the  boys  had  thrown  in  fun. 

Louis  Beveridge  took  in  the  situation  in 
one  look.  The  next  moment  he  was  try 
ing  to  be  the  first  to  reach  the  gates  and 
close  them  before  the  mules  could  get 
through.  If  they  could  run,  so,  too,  could 
he.  He  cleared  the  ground  in  long 
springs,  and  won  in  the  short,  swift  race. 

One  of  the  big  and  heavy  gates  he  had 
pushed  to,  and  he  jumped  for  the  other 
as  the  mules  bore  down,  kicking  as  they 
ran.  One  of  the  leaders  struck  him  with 
its  head.  He  made  a  snatch  at  its  check- 
strap —  and  missed. 

On  the  instant  the  wheels  of  the  ambu 
lance  crashed  against  the  gate,  breaking  it, 
and  throwing  it  wide ;  the  mules  were 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     113 

tearing  up  in  the  direction  of  the  post, 
and  Beveridge  was  dragging  after  them, 
his  head  beating  against  the  ground,  nearer 
and  nearer  among  the  pounding  hoofs,  his 
feet  caught  in  the  dragging  reins. 

There  was  a  momentary  hesitation.  The 
men  had  reached  the  gate  themselves,  and 
Marian  stood  with  them,  covering  her  face 
with  her  hands  and  cowering,  but  making 
no  sound. 

It  was  Haggarty  who  was  the  first  to 
come  to  a  decision.  Louis  Beveridge's 
horse,  upon  which  he  had  been  trying  the 
bit,  stood  in  the  stall.  It  was  barebacked, 
but  the  bridle  was  on.  Haggarty  ran  back, 
flung  himself  upon  it,  and  shot  out  through 
the  gate,  starting  —  not  after  the  ambulance 
but  well  to  one  side,  making  a  wide  detour. 

There  were  not  many  soldiers  around 
that  part  of  the  outskirts  of  the  garrison, 


ii4     THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

just  then,  and  only  two  or  three  had  caught 
sight  of  the  ambulance  bumping  and  whirl 
ing  along  after  its  four  powerful  grays,  with 
the  limp  burden  which  had  ceased  to 
struggle  or  throw  out  its  arms,  dragging 
beside.  Those  two  or  three  ran  forward, 
but  the  mules  swerved  from  right  to  left 
and  kept  on,  the  ambulance  riding  first  on 
the  wheels  of  one  side,  then  on  those  of 
the  other. 

If  the  mules  were  to  turn  into  the  road 
that  led  to  the  quadrangle  of  the  post, 
they  would  be  stopped.  If  they  should 
turn  out  behind  the  officers'  quarters  where 
there  were  rocks  and  gullies  and  after  that 
a  sheer  hill  to  the  bed  of  the  creek  — ! 

Haggarty,  planning  for  just  that,  widened 
his  circle  and  put  his  horse  to  a  faster 
run,  belly  to  the  ground.  He  had  gained 
on  the  ambulance.  He  was  getting  ahead 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     115 

of  it.  He  would  be  in  front  of  it  in  a 
moment  more. 

The  mules  jerked  sharp  about  and  started 
for  the  quadrangle.  But  the  ambulance 
had  ridden  on  a  single  wheel  once  too  often. 
It  balanced  so  for  an  instant,  now  —  then 
it  went  banging  over  on  its  side. 

Even  the  four  big  baggage  wagon  mules 
could  not  drag  it  far  that  way.  They 
plunged  and  kicked  and  scrambled  on  for 
a  few  yards,  pulling  the  long,  clumsy  thing 
after  them.  Then  they  came  to  a  stop  in 
a  struggling,  tangled  heap. 

Haggarty  was  on  the  ground  beside  Louis 
Beveridge  and  had  whipped  out  a  penknife 
and  cut  loose  his  foot.  But  the  time  was 
past  when  Louis  could  rise  by  himself. 

Haggarty  turned  him  over  and  looked 
in  his  face.  It  was  torn  and  bleeding  and 
thick  with  sand  and  dust.  There  was  a 


n6     THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

hole  in  the  side  of  his  head,  and  his  eyes 
were  closed.  Haggarty  put  down  his  ear 
and  listened.  There  was  breath  yet,  to  be 
sure,  and  the  heart  was  beating,  but  only 
feebly. 

Others  were  taking  the  children  from 
the  overturned  ambulance,  and  they  were 
none  the  worse.  But  the  chance  for  Louis 
Beveridge  was  bad.  Haggarty  knew  that 
it  was.  He  tried  to  lift  him,  but  Bever- 
idge's  weight  was  greater  than  his  own. 
It  took  three  of  the  men  to  carry  him  to 
his  uncle's  quarters  and  put  him  upon  the 
bed.  Then,  the  doctor  being  already  on 
hand,  Haggarty  went  off  to  catch  the 
horse. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  met  Marian  upon 
the  board  walk. 

Had  he  heard  how  Louis  Beveridge  was  ? 
she  asked.  Haggarty  had  just  seen  Major 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     117 

Beveridge's  striker,  and  Louis  was  uncon 
scious  still. 

"  There's  a  hole  in  the  side  of  his  head, 
where  he  got  kicked.  It's  the  size  of  yer 
fist,"  said  the  old  soldier,  who  could  improve 
a  story  like  any  other  Irishman.  "  And  the 
doctor  says  it's  a  toss-up  if  he  ever  comes 
to  again,  with  odds  on  the  other  side." 

Marian  thought  of  the  half- told  warning 
and  of  the  unfinished  words. 

Were  they  to  prove  to  be  the  last  that 
poor  Louis  would  ever  speak  ? 


CHAPTER   V 

UNDER  ordinary  circumstances  the  snow 
which  was  falling  would  have  seemed  to 
Marian  beautiful  and  delightful  to  the  last 
degree.  She  would  have  been  out  in  it, 
turning  up  a  cheerful  face  to  feel  the  soft, 
cold  flakes.  As  it  was  she  was  staying 
indoors  and  standing  by  the  window  of  the 
sitting  room,  looking  out.  And  her  face 
was  not  cheerful.  She  began  to  think  that 
she  was  growing  too  old  to  enjoy  even 
things  which  should  be  so  enjoyable  as  the 
season's  first  snow  —  which,  at  sixteen  years 
of  age,  was  a  serious  frame  of  mind. 

She  watched  the  children  who  were 
scampering  up  and  down  the  line  and 
across  the  parade  ground,  screaming  and 

118 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     119 

laughing  and  calling  out.  She  heaved 
a  heavy  sigh,  so  heavy  that  Puggy- 
Wuggy,  asleep  before  the  fire  and  per 
fectly  contented  with  his  own  lot,  —  now 
that  his  hurts  were  well,  —  was  disturbed 
and  awakened.  He  got  up,  looked  his 
reproach  with  round  pop  eyes  and  limply 
uncurled  tail  ;  and  finding  no  notice  taken 
of  him,  turned  himself  around  exactly  five 
times,  lay  down,  and  went  to  sleep  again. 

Some  of  the  children  who  were  playing 
out  there  were  the  very  ones  who  had  been 
in  the  Red  Cross  wagon  three  weeks  before, 
and  they  were  none  the  less  happy  that 
Louis  Beveridge,  because  of  them,  had  been 
for  four  days  between  life  and  death,  and 
was  far  from  being  altogether  out  of  danger 
even  now. 

Marian  had  thought  a  good  deal  about 
Louis's  last  words  —  the  advice  and  that 


120     THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

unfinished  sentence  which  might  have  ex 
plained  so  much,  which  might  have  let  her 
know  for  a  certainty  how  she  should  act. 

As  it  was,  she  was  in  the  most  per 
plexing  doubt.  She  could  imagine  all 
manner  of  things  concerning  the  recruit 
whom  he  had  warned  her  against.  He 
might  be  anything  —  from  just  a  somewhat 
dishonest  person  up  to  a  burglar,  or  even 
a  murderer.  Whatever  he  might  be,  it  is 
certain  that  the  thought  of  having  yet  to 
deal  with  him  was  not  calculated  to  pro 
duce  in  her  a  very  pleasant  frame  of  mind. 

She  was  miserable  and  uneasy  enough 
about  that,  and  she  was  lonesome  without 
Louis  Beveridge  as  well.  She  wished  there 
were  some  girls  in  the  post.  In  every  way 
her  world  was  going  all  wrong. 

So  deep  into  the  darkness  of  her  thoughts 
she  had  gone  that  she  did  not  realize  that 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     121 

the  door-bell  had  rung,  that  some  one  had 
come  into  the  hallway,  hung  up  his  cap 
and  cape  and  the  sabre  of  the  officer  of 
the  day,  and  was  standing  before  the  fire 
looking  at  her  with  a  smile  of  much 
amusement. 

But,  directly,  she  felt  the  look  and  turned 
her  head.  It  was  her  father's  second  lieu 
tenant,  a  youngster  fresh  from  West  Point. 
Marian  was  disposed  to  think  of  him  as 
a  good  deal  of  a  "  kid,"  and  to  treat  his 
opinion  of  things  in  general  with  far  less 
deference  than  she  did  those  of  Beveridge, 
though  the  latter's  years  were  fewer  by 
three  or  four. 

The  Lieutenant  was  in  and  out  of  the 
house  at  all  hours  and  seasons,  so  she  did 
not  greet  him  with  any  especial  formality. 
She  only  smiled  and  left  the  window  to  go 
over  to  the  hearth-rug  and  talk  to  him. 


122     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

"  Whyfore  so  mournful  ? "  he  tried  to 
tease.  "  Wishing  for  Louis  Beveridge  ?  " 

But  Marian  was  not  to  be  teased.  She 
was  perfectly  willing  to  have  it  known  that 
she  was  "  wishing  for  Louis  Beveridge." 
"  Yes,"  she  admitted  frankly,  "  I  am.  I 
miss  him  most  awfully." 

The  Lieutenant  nodded  his  head  sym 
pathetically. 

Did  he  know  how  Louis  was,  to-day  ? 
Marian  asked.  "Just  met  the  medico 
coming  from  there,"  he  said.  "  The  re 
port  isn't  quite  so  favorable.  He  isn't 
out  of  his  head  any  more,  though  — 
hasn't  been  for  several  days.  When  he 
was,  seems  he  talked  about  all  kinds  of 
concerns  —  of  you  and  of  scallywags  in 
general,  and  of  some  one  scallywag  in  par 
ticular,  Lemering  or  Levering,  or  some 
such  name  as  that.  He  kept  mixing  you 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     123 

and  the  scallywag  up  all  the  time.  He  also 
raved  about  corrals  and  puppy-dogs  and 
Haggarty.  And  it  appears  he  thought  that 
Martha  Lorrimer's  little  sister  was  being 
kicked  to  death  by  a  gray  mule.  He  had  a 
bad  time  of  it,  poor  chap.  And  the  doctor 
isn't  sure  he  won't  have  it  again  —  what's 
more.  Funny  his  mixing  up  you  and 
Lemering — or  Levering  —  so  persistently." 

The  Lieutenant's  back  was  turned  to  the 
fire,  his  hands  were  clasped  behind  him, 
and  he  was  gazing  straight  before  him  at 
a  picture  on  the  opposite  wall.  As  a  re 
sult,  he  did  not  happen  to  see  the  ex 
pression  of  Marian's  face.  Which  was 
probably  just  as  well  for  Marian,  as  it 
might  have  led  to  inquiries. 

While  she  was  trying  to  think  of  some 
thing  to  answer,  Captain  Norris  came  up 
on  the  porch  and  into  the  house. 


124     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

Marian  went  back  to  the  window,  drew 
a  chair  to  it,  and  took  up  a  book.  She 
began  to  read.  But  her  mind  was  not 
on  the  reading,  and  presently  she  caught 
a  bit  of  what  her  father  and  the  Lieutenant 
were  talking  about.  They  were  in  earnest 
colloquy.  But  there  was  no  attempt  at 
secrecy  about  it,  and  Marian  felt  justified 
in  listening. 

"  As  far  as  I  can  learn,"  Captain  Norris 
was  saying,  "the  thing  began  a  couple  of 
weeks  ago  —  or  rather  more.  Loomis 
thought  he  missed  something — some  money 
—  out  of  his  clothes.  It  was  only  a  dollar 
or  two,  however,  and  he  hadn't  been  quite 
sure  how  much  he'd  left  in  the  pockets. 
So  he  didn't  speak  of  it  to  any  one." 

"  I've  noticed  that  before,"  the  Lieutenant 
put  in,  a  little  keen  to  show  his  familiar 
ity  with  privates  and  their  ways.  "  They'd 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     125 

rather  lose  a  few  dollars  in  quiet  than  run 
the  risk  of  getting  the  other  men  down 
on  them  for  grumbling." 

Captain  Norris  agreed.  "  And  then,  too, 
it's  a  delicate  matter,"  he  said.  "If 
Loomis  had  spoken  about  it  right  away, 
ten  to  one  his  bunkies  on  either  side 
would  have  been  on  their  ears,  imagining 
he  was  suspecting  them." 

"  Who  are  they  ?  "  the  Lieutenant  wanted 
to  know.  Captain  Norris  told  him.  One 
was  a  man  whom  Marian  did  not  know. 
The  other  was  Haggarty. 

"  As  for  Haggarty,"  said  the  Lieutenant, 
confidently,  "he's  in  his  fifth  enlistment, 
isn't  he  ?  And  his  record's  good.  He'd 
hardly  have  begun  pilfering  at  his  ad 
vanced  and  reverend  age.  The  other  fel 
low  is  comparatively  new,  though.  But 
he's  a  stolid,  lumpish  kind  of  a  Dutchman, 


126     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

it  always  struck  me.  I  should  say  he  was 
too  heavy-footed  and  heavy-fingered  to 
make  much  of  a  success  of  stealing  any 
thing." 

Captain  Norris  nodded.  "  It's  not  he" 
he  said  decidedly. 

The  Lieutenant  took  him  up.  "You 
don't  mean  to  imply  that  it  might,  by 
any  chance,  be  Haggarty  ? "  He  went  un 
answered. 

"  The  next  thing  that  was  missed,"  con 
tinued  the  Captain,  as  though  he  had  not 
heard,  "  the  next  thing  that  was  missed 
was  an  old  fatigue  suit.  That  was  Kreut- 
zer's.  Then  a  campaign  cap  went ;  then 
some  other  small  things.  I've  got  the 
list,"  —  he  tapped  a  pocket,  —  "then  some 
more  money  —  as  much  as  eighteen  or 
twenty  dollars  from  different  men.  After 
that,  socks  began  to  disappear,  then  under- 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     127 

wear.  But  the  final  straw  was  when  one 
of  the  last  batch  of  recruits  —  Ewing  his 
name  is  —  found  his  watch  gone  out  of 
his  kit.  Then  there  was  fun  to  pay. 
Seems  it  was  a  watch  that  had  belonged 
to  somebody  or  other  —  and  it  broke  him 
all  up." 

The  Lieutenant  asked  a  question.  "  It's 
the  recruits,  isn't  it,  who  have  fared  the 
worst  in  the  business,  anyway  ? " 

It  appeared  that  such  was  the  case. 
"  There's  that  young  fellow  named  Creigh- 
ton,"  —  Marian  had  long  since  laid  down 
the  book ;  now  she  leaned  forward  eagerly, 
—  "the  one,"  said  Captain  Norris,  "who 
has  ideas  about  getting  a  commission  — 
and  who  may  stand  a  very  fair  chance  of 
it,  if  he'll  stop  making  love  to  Martha 
Lorrimer,  as  the  first  sergeant  tells  me  he 
seems  to  be  doing." 


128     THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

"  Martha  Lorrimer  ? "  said  the  Lieuten 
ant.  "  She's  the  jolly  handsome  girl  down 
in  suds-row,  the  one  with  the  gray  eyes 
and  auburn  hair;  the  Sergeant-major's 
daughter  ? " 

It  was  plain  from  the  way  he  spoke  that 
the  Lieutenant  had  an  eye  for  beauty,  him 
self.  "  Don't  know  that  I  blame  him  so 
much,"  he  finished. 

The  Captain  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 
"  No,  to  be  sure,"  he  admitted,  "  neither 
do  I.  But  you  pay  your  money  and  you 
take  your  choice.  He'll  have  to  choose. 
If  he  takes  the  Sergeant-major's  daughter, 
of  course  he  can't  take  his  commission  — 
that's  one  thing  very  sure."  The  Lieu 
tenant  acquiesced. 

"  And,"  added  the  Captain,  more  severely, 
"  if  he  makes  love  to  her  and  then  jilts 
her,  he  won't  get  it  either.  Martha's  a 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     129 

nice  girl,  and  I  can't  have  anybody  break 
ing  her  heart.  As  for  Creighton,"  he  con 
cluded,  "  some  way  I  don't  like  the  fellow. 
I  don't  know  why.  He's  well  educated, 
and  he's  well  set  up  and  he  behaves  him 
self;  but  it  always  seems  to  me  that  under 
neath  it  all  his  manner  is  cheeky  and  flip, 
and  a  little  cringing,  too.  It  may  be  just 
imagination." 

"  I  don't  know  why,  either,"  said  the 
Lieutenant,  "but  he  affects  me  that  way, 
too.  I  wouldn't  trust  him  far." 

A  thought  occurred  to  Marian.  Was 
it  possible  that  these  two  men  were  right 
in  their  opinion  ?  Was  it  possible  that 
their  judgment  was  correct  when  her  own, 
upon  which  she  was  so  very  fond  of  rely 
ing,  was  wrong  ? 

Captain  Norris  was  speaking  again. 
"  But  to  go  back  to  the  thefts :  as  I  was 

K 


130     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

saying,  it  seems  to  be  the  recruits  who  got 
the  worst  of  it  all  around ;  and  Creighton 
says  that  ten  dollars  was  taken  out  of  his 
trousers  pockets.  To  be  sure,  he  hadn't 
any  business  leaving  as  much  as  that 
around." 

"  To  be  sure,"  assented  the  Lieutenant. 
"  But  supposing  we  get  down  to  the 
bottom  of  this.  Whom  do  you  suspect  ?  " 

The  Captain  looked  very  much  as  if  he 
did  not  wish  to  answer.  His  eyes  shifted 
as  if  the  guilt  had  been  his  own,  and  he 
bit  at  his  under  lip.  "  Well,  you  know," 
he  gained  time,  "  you  can't  settle  a  matter 
like  this  out  of  hand.  There's  got  to  be 
a  regular  investigation,  and  some  detective 
work,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  sticking  to 
it  persistently.  "  But  whom  do  you 
suspect  ?  " 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     131 

"  Well,"  began  the  Captain  again,  about  as 
thoroughly  unhappy  and  uncomfortable  as  a 
man  could  be,  "  I  feel  more  than  a  little 
ashamed  of  myself,  to  even  let  it  enter  my 
head,  —  much  less  to  say  it,  —  but  I'll  be 
hanged  if  it  doesn't  look  as  if  it  were 
Haggarty." 

He  stopped.  Nobody  spoke.  "  Every 
suspicion,"  he  went  on,  "  seems  to  point  that 
way.  Mind  you,  there's  no  proof  as  yet. 
And  I  haven't  breathed  it  to  any  of  the  men. 
But  half  a  dozen  little  things  look  mighty 
curious,  piecing  the  testimony  together. 
Then,  you  see,  Haggarty  has  been  spending 
more  money  than  usual  of  late.  I  don't 
know  what  his  fortune  is,  to  be  sure.  He 
may  have  saved  up  a  lot.  He  never  seems 
to  spend  anything  except  for  Christmas  and 
birthday  and  Easter  and  Thanksgiving  and 
New  Year  and  Fourth  of  July  and  Washing- 


1 32     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

ton's  birthday  and  Lincoln's  birthday  and 
Decoration  Day  and  in-between-day  presents 
for  Marian," — he  nodded  toward  his  daughter, 
—  "and  for  candy  and  chewing-gum  for  all 
the  post  kids,  regardless  of  rank  and  station. 
But  he  used  to  send  nearly  all  his  pay  back 
to  his  father  and  mother,  and  so,  at  that  time 
he  couldn't  have  saved.  I  don't  know 
whether  he's  been  doing  it  recently,  but  I 
think  he  has,  because  the  old  people  are  still 
alive.  He  was  talking  to  me  about  them 
just  the  other  day." 

"  I  went  to  see  the  old  fogies,  once,  when 
I  was  in  New  York,"  Captain  Norris  went 
on.  "  Haggarty  asked  me  to.  They  were 
a  good  old  couple.  You  could  have  cut 
their  brogue  with  an  axe.  They  evidently 
didn't  distinguish  any  differences  in  little 
matters  of  rank."  The  recollection  was  bring 
ing  a  smile  to  his  greatly  distressed  face. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     133 

"  They  seemed  to  think  that  one  man,  in  the 
army,  was  the  same  as  the  next.  So  as 
their  son  was  a  soldier,  and  I  was  a  soldier, 
too,  they  wanted  to  do  the  tidy  thing  by 
me.  They  invited  me  to  dinner  and  had 
some  of  their  friends  from  the  neighboring 
tenements,  to  meet  me.  And  by  Jove," 
admitted  Captain  Norris,  "  I  went.  And  I 
had  a  jolly  good  time,  too.  They  asked 
what  my  pay  was,  and  I  told  them.  Then 
they  wanted  to  know  if  Haggarty  got  as 
much  as  all  that.  I  had  to  confess  that  he 
didn't  —  not  quite.  But  I  didn't  tell  them 
just  what  he  did  get.  I  rather  suspect  he 
lets  them  think  he's  got  money  to  burn." 

Then  his  face  fell  again. 

"  But  you  know,"  he  said,  "  that  poor  old 
duffer  just  about  brought  Marian  up.  He 
was  our  striker  for  years.  He  was  in  my 
troop  when  I  was  a  lieutenant ;  then  when  I 


134     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

got  my  captaincy  and  another  troop,  he  trans 
ferred  into  that.  He  thinks  still  that  his 
claims  on  Marian  are  equal  to  if  not  superior 
to  mine.  He  took  her  out  in  his  arms  the 
first  time  she  ever  saw  the  blazing  blue  Arizona 
sky,  and  he  taught  her  to  walk  and  he  taught 
her  to  ride,  and  he  taught  her  to  shoot. 
He's  trained  every  horse  and  puppy  she's 
ever  had.  He's  saved  her  life  a  couple  of 
times."  There  was  no  doubt  about  it  that 
there  was  a  choke  in  his  voice,  which  the 
Captain  turned  into  a  savage  cough.  And 
the  tears  were  swelling  in  Marian's  eyes. 

"  Why,  you  know,"  he  went  on,  "  Hag- 
garty's  been  an  institution  in  the  household 
—  of  hardly  secondary  importance  to  myself. 
In  fact,  there  have  been  times  when  Mrs. 
Norris  and  I  have  had  to  take  a  back  seat. 
So  you  can  see  how  I  naturally  feel  about 
this.  I'd  almost  rather  have  taken  the 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     135 

trash  myself  than  to  have  had  him  do  it. 
And  I'd  fifty  times  rather  make  up  for  it  to 
the  men  than  have  to  have  him  accused. 
But  that  can't  be  done,  of  course.  It's 
got  to  be  settled  now  that  it's  gone  so 
far." 

But  surely,  the  Lieutenant  suggested,  it 
was  not  merely  on  the  strength  of  Hag- 
garty's  seeming  to  have  a  little  more  money 
than  usual  that  Captain  Norris  was  suspect 
ing  him.  Unfortunately,  the  Captain  told 
him,  it  was  not.  There  were  many  other 
little  straws  pointing  the  way  that  the  wind 
might  be  guessed  to  blow.  He  went  over 
them  to  the  younger  officer. 

"It  looks  bad,"  admitted  the  latter,  "it 
certainly  does.  And  there's  no  one  else 
you  can  in  any  way  suspect  ? "  The  Cap 
tain  regretted  sincerely  that  there  was  not. 
"  Are  you  going  to  speak  to  him  in  private, 


136     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

before  the  matter  goes  farther  ?  "  the  Lieu 
tenant  asked. 

"  How  can  I  ? "  Captain  Norris  ques 
tioned  back.  "  With  only  some  circum 
stantial  evidence  behind  me,  I  don't  see 
how  I'd  have  the  face.  I'd  feel  so  mean  if 
I  happened,  by  any  chance,  to  be  wrong. 
Still,"  he  considered  it,  "  I  haven't  made 
up  my  mind.  I'll  think  it  over." 

The  Lieutenant  turned  to  Marian. 
"This  young  lady  ought  to  be  a  very  much 
interested  party,  I  should  think,"  he  said. 
"  Perhaps  she  has  something  to  suggest  ? " 

Marian  waited  for  her  father's  permission 
to  speak.  She  had  been  trained  as  to  med 
dling  with  official  affairs,  and  a  recent  med 
dling  with  a  semi-official  one  was  making 
her  more  cautious  still. 

"  Well,"  consented  her  father,  "  what 
would  you  have  to  say  ? " 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     137 

It  was  Marian's  way  to  decide  in  a  good 
deal  of  a  hurry,  to  make  up  her  mind  with 
promptness.  Sometimes  it  had  been  for 
tunate.  Sometimes  it  had  not.  Her  mind 
was  already  made  up  about  this.  She  had 
her  suggestion,  and  she  made  it  at  once.  It 
was  to  the  effect  that  she  should  see  Hag- 
garty  herself. 

"  I  could  lead  up  to  it,  you  know,"  she 
urged.  "  Girls  can  do  those  things  a  great 
deal  better  than  men,  very  often."  She  was 
so  deeply  in  earnest  that  the  two  men  kept 
back  their  smiles.  "  I  talk  to  him  so  much, 
and  about  so  many  things,  it  would  come 
more  naturally  from  me  than  from  you, 
don't  you  think? " 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Captain  Norris,  doubt 
fully.  It  was  evidently  a  business  he  did 
not  relish,  any  way  it  should  be  done. 

"  Of  course,"    Marian    assured    him,   "  I 


138     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

won't  tell  him  that  you  suspect  him,  point 
blank.  I'll  just  talk  about  it  sort  of  gen 
erally  and  tell  him  there  is  going  to  be  an 
investigation,  and  that  the  man  who  took 
the  things  ought  to  see  you  about  it  and 
confess  and  give  them  back  —  because  you'd 
make  it  easy  for  him.  Something  like 
that,"  she  finished.  "  But,  of  course,  I'd 
have  to  think  what  to  say  as  I  went  along." 
On  the  whole,  it  did  not  strike  Captain 
N orris  as  entirely  a  bad  scheme. 

"  I'll  send  Story  over  for  him,"  Marian 
volunteered.  "I'll  pretend  —  let's  see  —  " 
She  sat  thinking  for  a  moment,  her  fore 
head  in  a  frown.  Then  she  looked  up. 
"Oh!  yes.  I'll  pretend  I  want  some  new 
runners  put  on  that  sled  he  made  for  me 
last  year.  They  are  rusty.  And  there's 
nobody  can  do  it  as  well  as  he." 

"  There  have  always,"  remarked  the  Cap- 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     139 

tain,  dryly,  "  been  some  forty-'leven  things 
that  nobody  could  do  quite  so  well  as 
Haggarty.  All  right  —  go  ahead  and  try. 
But  don't,"  he  warned,  "  don't  hurt  his 
very  susceptible  feelings." 

Marian  went  out  to  find  Story  and  send 
him  over  to  the  barracks ;  and  when  he 
was  gone,  she  stood  by  the  kitchen  stove, 
a  more  complete  picture  of  dejection,  if 
that  were  possible,  than  she  had  been  be 
side  the  sitting-room  window,  a  while 
before.  If  there  had  been  anything  needed 
to  complete  her  unhappiness,  it  was  surely 
this  —  that  Haggarty,  the  one  and  only 
Haggarty,  should  have  fallen  from  grace. 

Story  was  gone  so  long  a  time  that  she 
shrewdly  suspected  him  of  stopping  to 
have  some  talks  over  the  new  excitement 
with  the  men  at  the  troop  quarters. 

And    in    the    end    he    came    back    alone. 


140     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

Haggarty  was  not  around.  The  last  that 
had  been  seen  of  him  he  had  been  talking 
to  Lowinsky  the  vegetable  man ;  and  now 
he  was  over  at  the  blacksmith's  shop,  or 
the  farrier's.  But  Story  had  left  word  for 
him,  when  he  should  return. 

Evidently  he  had  returned  within  a  few 
minutes  after,  for  he  came  presently. 

"  Did  ye  send  for  me  ? "  he  inquired, 
standing  in  the  kitchen  doorway,  and  re 
fusing  to  step  inside  because  of  the  snow 
on  his  boots.  "It's  pretty  busy  I  am." 
Which  was  merely  by  way  of  a  display  of 
his  importance.  He  was  pleased  to  be 
wanted  for  something  that  Story  was  evi 
dently  not  considered  capable  of  doing, 
and  it  showed  in  every  wrinkle  of  his 
face. 

Marian  wrapped  a  shawl  about  her  head 
and  shoulders,  and  led  the  way  out  to  the 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     141 

wood-house,  where  the  sled  had  been  stored 
for  the  past  ten  months.  She  showed  the 
condition  of  the  runners  to  Haggarty. 
He  examined  them  with  elaborate  care. 
It  might  have  been,  at  the  very  least,  a 
compound  fracture  of  a  limb  that  required 
setting. 

Then  he  determined  upon  what  would 
be  necessary.  There  was  new  band  steel 
to  be  got,  and  a  certain  kind  of  screws ; 
and  the  band  steel  must  be  pierced  at  such 
and  such  intervals.  He  would  take  it 
over  to  the  blacksmith's  and  to  the  car 
penter's,  but  he  would  have  it  in  shape 
for  her  to  coast  with  the  next  day,  if  she 
wanted  it.  In  the  meantime  he  was  will 
ing  enough  to  sit  down  upon  the  wood-pile 
and  talk. 

"  What  you  want  to  talk  about  ? "  he 
objected,  settling  himself  comfortably  upon 


142     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

a  large  mesquite  knot  the  while,  and 
beaming  from  one  large  ear  to  the  other. 
"  I  got  something  else  to  do  besides  this. 
You  always  seem  to  think  I  just  enlisted 
for  nothing  else  but  to  play  with  you. 
What  is  it  you  want  to  talk  about  ?  Be 
lively." 

"  I  know  you're  awfully  busy,"  she  hu 
mored  him.  "But  —  " 

"  That's  right,  I  am,"  interrupted  Hag- 
garty.  "  I  go  on  guard  to-morrow,  and 
I've  got  my  kit  to  shine  up." 

"  But,"  went  on  Marian,  "  I  want  to 
hear  about  the  —  the  —  taking  things  that's 
been  going  on  over  at  the  troop."  This 
was  making  a  bold  plunge  decidedly. 
She  felt  herself  hot  and  red  into  her  very 
hair ;  and  she  felt  like  a  traitress  besides. 

"Well  —  "said  Haggarty.  He  stopped, 
cocking  his  head  to  one  side,  sharply. 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     143 

"What's  that?"  he  demanded,  jumping  to 
his  feet. 

It  was  three  rifle-shots.  Haggarty  and 
Marian  started  out  of  the  shed.  The  quick 
note  of  a  bugle  pealed  out  on  the  winter 
air ;  then  the  hurrying  alarm  of  fire-call. 

Some  one  shouted  to  some  one  else. 
And  the  bugle  was  shrilling  above  it  all. 
Marian  and  Haggarty  were  out  of  the  yard 
and  upon  the  front  roadway. 

"  Where's  it  at  ? "  called  Haggarty,  as 
he  ran. 

Story  answered  him.  "  It's  Major  Bever- 
idge's  house  —  where  the  young  man  is 
hurt."  He,  too,  was  on  the  run.  Marian 
looked.  The  flames  were  licking  out  of 
the  roof. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE  fire  spread  fast  along  the  roof  of 
Major  Beveridge's  quarters.  It  had  begun 
there,  catching  from  the  sparks  out  of  a 
low  and  defective  chimney.  The  shingles, 
dry  after  months  of  drought,  and  not  yet 
wet  thoroughly  by  the  light  snowfall, 
burned  well,  and  the  flames  ate  downward 
into  the  house  itself. 

Marian  stood  with  the  other  women  of 
the  post,  as  near  as  they  were  allowed. 
The  shawl  she  had  worn  out  to  the  wood 
shed  was  still  wrapped  over  her  head,  mak 
ing  her  look  very  much  like  one  of  the 
slender  young  Mexican  women  who  came 
about  the  post  occasionally,  selling  laces 
and  drawn-work. 

144 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     145 

There  was  nothing  for  the  women  to  do. 
Almost  the  first  to  arrive  on  the  scene 
had  been  four  men  of  the  hospital  corps, 
bringing  a  stretcher,  and  on  the  run. 
They  went  inside,  and  a  few  minutes  later 
came  out  carrying  Louis  Beveridge,  covered 
from  head  to  foot,  so  that  only  a  still,  vague 
form  beneath  the  blankets  was  to  be  seen. 

They  went  slowly  now,  in  the  trained, 
stretcher-drill  step,  smoother  than  a  ham 
mock's  swing.  The  post  surgeon  followed. 

Some  of  the  women,  looking,  shuddered 
audibly.  It  was  very  like  death,  the  still 
ness  and  the  white-shrouded  shape. 

"  If  only  it  isn't  an  omen,"  suggested 
one  of  them,  "  the  moving  is  sure  to  be 
very  bad  for  him."  She  was  a  person  with 
a  gift  for  seeing  the  dark  side  of  every 
thing. 

Marian   set   her   teeth    angrily.      Where 


146     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

was  the  use  of  gloating  over  mournful  and 
unpleasant  possibilities,  and  trying  to  make 
people  uncomfortable  ?  Louis  was  getting 
better,  and  he  had  the  constitution  of  an 
athlete  and  of  a  young  savage  —  both  in 
one  —  to  back  him  up.  The  doctor  had 
said  so. 

Marian  reminded  herself  of  this.  But 
she  looked  after  the  stretcher  as  it  was 
borne  away,  and  the  doleful  prognostica 
tion  was  not  without  effect.  The  form 
beneath  the  blankets  really  was  so  very 
still. 

"Why  —  they're  taking  him  — ,"  Marian 
exclaimed,  laying  her  hand  on  her  mother's 
arm,  "they're  taking  him  to  our  house.  It 
must  have  been  father  who  told  them  to." 

Mrs.  Beveridge  was  hurrying  down  the 
walk  after  him.  Mrs.  Norris,  gathering  up 
her  skirts,  ran  to  join  the  Major's  wife. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     147 

In  a  few  moments  more  Mrs.  Beveridge 
turned  back  to  help  in  the  saving  of  her 
household  goods,  and  Mrs.  Norris  went  on 
to  her  own  house  alone. 

"  We've  an  extra  bedroom,  you  know," 
explained  Marian.  "  I  suppose  they  are 
going  to  put  him  in  there."  For  the  first 
time  Marian  was  not  sorry  that  there  was 
no  "  sister  about  her  own  age "  to  have 
the  extra  bedroom.  Ordinarily  it  was  the 
wish  of  her  life. 

The  soldiers  were  fighting  the  fire  with 
water-buckets  and  two  or  three  hand-gren 
ades,  as  best  they  could,  but  the  fire  was 
large,  and  the  buckets  were  small,  and  pres 
ently  the  most  of  their  attention  was  turned 
to  saving  the  furniture. 

They  came  out  with  a  piano,  with  beds, 
with  tables,  with  curtains  jerked  down  from 
their  poles,  and  hopelessly  torn,  with  china 


148     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

and  ornaments.  A  single  man  would  labor 
under  a  heavy  load  —  two  would  carry  out 
a  small  wicker  chair.  The  big  Dutchman 
of  "  L  "  Troop,  concerning  whom  Captain 
Norris  had  spoken  to  the  Lieutenant  a 
while  before,  bore  forth,  with  infinite  care, 
two  plates  of  caramels,  one  in  either  hand. 
He  took  them  halfway  across  the  parade 
ground  and  set  them  on  the  top  of  the 
piano  with  a  triumphant  air.  Then  he 
hurried  back  again. 

The  snow  was  falling  all  the  while.  One 
of  the  officer's  wives  suggested  that  it  would 
be  well  to  find  blankets  and  rubber  ponchos 
and  cover  up  some  of  the  furniture.  They 
set  to  work  upon  it  at  once.  Marian 
helped,  glad  enough  of  something  to  do. 
Standing  by  and  watching  with  folded  hands 
was  not  to  her  taste  in  anything. 

,  who  had  followed  her  and 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     149 

who  had  been  reproved  for  aiding  the  ex 
citement  and  expressing  his  natural  feelings 
by  means  of  agitated  barks,  ran  back  and 
forth  at  her  heels.  He  looked  up  now  and 
then,  and  wagged  his  tail,  expectant  of 
praise.  Then  he  grew  disgusted  with  the 
lack  of  that  attention  which  he  felt  he  mer 
ited,  and  went  off  in  search  of  occupation 
on  his  own  account.  He  found  it.  And 
Skeezicks,  who  had  been  hanging  around 
on  the  outskirts  of  things,  came  to  his  aid. 
What  Puggy-Wuggy  had  discovered  was 
a  doll  belonging  to  Mrs.  Beveridge's  little 
girl.  It  was  lying  in  a  heap  of  curtains. 
Puggy-Wuggy  pulled  it  out  by  its  long  kid 
leg.  It  was  a  large  doll,  rather  too  large 
for  a  small  pug  to  manage.  At  least  so 
Skeezicks  decided.  In  view  of  the  very 
attractive  circumstances  he  was  ready  to 
forget  old  animosities.  He  took  the  arm 


150     THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

of  the  doll  upon  the  opposite  side.  But 
here  there  arose  a  difference  of  opinion  as 
to  which  way  to  go  to  take  the  doll  to  a 
safer  place.  Skeezicks,  being  a  troop  dog, 
was  for  the  barracks.  Puggy-Wuggy,  be 
ing  an  officer's  dog,  was  for  the  line. 

By  the  time  that  Marian,  summoned  by 
the  wailing  of  the  youngest  Beveridge,  ar 
rived  to  interfere,  the  doll  had  ceased  to 
be  a  thing  that  was  worth  disputing  over 
or  the  shedding  of  tears. 

The  fire  was  put  out  at  last,  but  not 
until  the  quarters  were  badly  damaged,  and 
the  upper  story  open  to  a  thick,  gray  sky 
and  the  now  whirling  snow.  The  things 
that  had  been  rescued  were  put  away  in 
neighboring  houses  and  porches,  and  in  the 
quartermaster's  storerooms ;  and  the  five 
members  of  the  Beveridge  family  were 
homeless  and  roofless  for  the  nonce. 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     151 

Haggarty  passed  Marian  on  his  way 
back  to  the  troop. 

"  Guess  you'd  better  get  Story  to  make 
out  the  best  way  he  knows  how  with  that 
sled,"  he  advised.  "  I  can't  see  to  it  now. 
I've  got  to  get  myself  purtty  for  to-morrow 

—  and  it  takes  time  and  work." 

Marian  knew  that  her  chance  of  diplo 
macy  was  gone,  at  least  for  the  present.  She 
went  back  to  her  house,  walking  slowly. 
Her  eyes  were  on  the  ground  and  she 
started  when  some  one  took  her  by  both 
shoulders.  It  was  Major  Beveridge. 

"  I  say,"  he  asked  excitedly,  "  you 
didn't  happen  to  see  a  leather  pocket-book, 

—  red    leather    with    a    silver    clasp  —  any 
where     around     the     parade     ground,    did 
you?"     Marian  had   not.     "All  right,"  he 
said,  setting   her  to   one  side  of  the  walk 
and  shooting  past. 


152     THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

"  What  was  in  it  ?  "   she  called  after  him. 

"Fifty  dollars,"  he  shouted  back.  "It 
was  in  my  desk,  and  it's  disappeared." 

Surely  it  was  an  epidemic  of  robbery. 
Never  in  all  her  experience  had  there  been 
such  occurrences  as  these.  It  had  always 
been  possible  in  the  past  to  leave  doors 
and  windows  unlocked  and  to  lie  down  and 
rise  up  again  in  peace  and  security.  And 
one  might  have  put  a  handful  of  gold  in 
the  middle  of  the  parade  and  have  left  it 
there  for  weeks.  It  would  never  have  been 
so  much  as  touched. 

She  spoke  of  it  to  her  father,  later  in 
the  evening  when  they  were  all  in  the  sit 
ting  room,  talking  and  moving  quietly  on 
account  of  the  invalid  in  the  extra  bedroom 
upstairs. 

"  Oh !  and,  by  the  way,"  said  the  Cap 
tain,  abruptly,  "that  reminds  me.  How 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     153 

much  have  you  got  in  that  savings  bank 
of  yours  ? " 

Now  that  was  the  last  thing  in  the  world 
of  which  Marian  would  have  wished  to 
remind  him.  She  saw  her  mistake,  and  she 
grew  cold  to  the  finger-tips.  It  seemed 
to  her  as  if  her  voice  would  not  come 
from  her  throat. 

"  I've  saved  about  thirty  dollars,"  she 
avoided  a  direct  answer.  He  did  not 
notice  that. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "you'd  better  give  it 
to  me  to-morrow,  and  I'll  send  it  on  to 
deposit  in  your  bank." 

"  It's  locked  up  safely  enough,"  she 
demurred  weakly.  Captain  Norris  dis 
missed  it.  There  was  no  knowing  whether 
anything  was  safely  locked  up,  these  days, 
it  appeared.  Marian  subsided  dutifully. 
The  blow  was  about  to  fall.  The  Eastern 


154     THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

boarding-school  loomed  very  near,  and  to 
morrow  was  a  time  to  dread. 

Yet  the  morrow,  when  it  came,  passed 
without  further  reference  to  the  little  iron 
savings  bank. 

There  was  to  be  a  "  hop "  that  night. 
It  was  to  be  in  honor  of  the  paymaster 
and  his  wife,  who  were  passing  through. 
Now  Marian  did  not  go  to  the  more 
formal  hops,  as  a  rule.  And  this  was  a 
formal  one.  But  she  had  begged  so  hard 
that  her  father  and  mother  had  consented 
to  let  her  dance  for  a  couple  of  hours. 

"But  at  ten  o'clock,"  they  told  her 
firmly,  "you  must  come  home  —  and  you 
must  promise  not  to  ask  to  stay  after 
that."  It  was  a  small  part  of  a  loaf,  but 
it  was  much  better  than  no  bread.  And, 
besides,  it  fitted  in  with  other  plans 
remarkably  well. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     155 

Creighton  had  sent  her  a  note  by 
Martha  Lorrimer's  little  sister,  saying  that 
the  money  for  which  he  had  written  had 
come,  and  that  he  would  pay  it  to  her 
whenever  she  liked. 

Marian  had  given  the  matter  considera 
tion.  She  could  think  of  no  way  to  man 
age  seeing  Creighton  any  time  during  the 
little  daylight  that  remained.  Her  mother 
had  given  her  various  things  to  attend  to 
in  the  house  —  among  others  the  making 
of  certain  custards  which  the  doctor  had 
ordered  for  Louis  Beveridge.  As  for  the 
evening — if  she  were  to  stay  at  home,  her 
father  would  also  be  at  home.  Captain 
Norris  did  not  dance.  He  would  also  be 
awake,  because  he  was  officer  of  the  day 
and  would  be  sitting  up  until  after  mid 
night  to  visit  the  guard. 

It    occurred    to    Marian    that    Creighton 


i56     THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

might  as  well  have  sent  the  money  by  the 
little  Lorrimer  girl,  while  he  was  about  it; 
but  since  he  had  not,  perhaps  there  was 
some  reason  for  it,  some  reason  why  he 
preferred  to  give  it  into  her  own  hand. 

She  decided,  therefore,  that  she  would 
leave  the  hop-room  at  ten  o'clock,  as  she 
had  promised  to  do,  would  steal  away  in 
conspicuously  without  letting  any  one  offer 
to  take  her  home,  would  meet  Creighton 
out  behind  the  quartermaster's  storehouse, 
get  the  money  from  him,  go  home,  de 
posit  it  in  her  bank,  and  retire  to  bed 
somewhat  easier  in  her  mind  than  she  had 
been  in  many  a  long  day  —  for  all  that 
troubles  still  hung  over  Haggarty's  poor 
old  red-gray  head. 

But  she  would  set  that  right  next,  if 
she  could.  And  she  was  beginning  to  be 
lieve  that  perhaps  she  could  —  to  have 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     157 

rather  a  fair  opinion  of  her  powers  as  a 
straightener-out  of  tangled  affairs. 

So  it  was,  therefore,  —  her  father  having 
failed  to  ask  for  her  savings  bank,  and  the 
prospect  of  a  hop  ahead,  —  she  dressed 
with  pleasant  anticipations  and  a  very  light 
heart,  and  went  off  with  her  mother  and 
the  Beveridges. 

Louis  had  sent  her  word  from  his  bed 
room  that  he  only  wished  himself  well 
enough  to  take  her  to  the  hop  and  to 
help  her  dance.  It  was  almost  the  first 
long  sentence  he  had  spoken,  and  Marian 
was  pleased.  She  was  sure,  besides,  that 
now  his  recovery  was  only  a  matter  of  a 
very  short  time.  The  moving  had  not 
hurt  him  at  all. 

Moreover,  the  hop  went  decidedly  well. 
The  paymaster's  wife  was  heard  to  ask 
who  she  might  be,  "  that  pretty  young  girl 


158     THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

with  the  big  blue  eyes  and  the  wonderful 
fair  hair."  And  the  Second  Lieutenant  of 
"L"  Troop  was  so  nice  to  her  that 
Marian  began  to  forgive  him  for  being  such 
an  "  awful  kid,"  —  a  description  she  had 
adopted  from  Haggarty. 

All  the  officers  danced  with  her.  Marian 
said  nothing  to  any  of  them  about  having 
to  leave  at  ten  o'clock.  An  escort  would 
have  —  to  say  the  least  —  interfered  seri 
ously  with  her  plans.  And  there  was  not 
the  slightest  reason  why  she  should  not  go 
back  home  across  the  parade  ground  alone. 
She  had  done  so  at  even  a  later  hour  plenty 
of  times  before.  But  she  watched  the 
clock  closely,  the  while  she  glided  to  the 
music  of  half  the  regimental  band.  She 
was  having  a  glorious  time. 

Then  when  it  was  two  minutes  of  ten, 
and — luckily  for  her  —  between  dances, 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     159 

she  went  to  the  dressing  room,  put  on  her 
overshoes,  her  long  dark  cloak  with  its 
hood  over  her  head;  and  taking  a  last 
look  at  the  dancers,  swirling  about  again 
in  the  big  room  all  bright  with  the  glow 
from  the  reflectors  of  many  kerosene  bar 
rack  lamps,  she  crept  out  by  the  back 
door  of  the  post  hall. 

There  was  no  longer  a  storm,  but  the 
ground  was  thickly  white,  and  the  sky 
was  thickly  gray  with  clouds.  The  night 
was  dark,  and  yet  the  whiteness  of  the 
snow  made  it  possible  to  see  fairly  well. 

The  snow  struck  cold  through  her  over 
shoes  and  thin  slippers.  The  wind  struck 
cold  into  the  hood  of  her  cloak.  And 
within  she  was  cold  too  —  with  fear. 

What  of  Louis's  warning  against  the  fel 
low  who  "  calls  himself  Creighton  "  ?  It 
said  itself  over  and  over  to  her;  but 


160     THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

she  went  on  nevertheless.  What  if  the 
worst  she  had  fancied  and  conjured  up 
were  true,  after  all  ?  What  if  "  the  fellow 
who  calls  himself  Creighton "  were  really 
a  desperate  burglar  escaped  from  justice  — 
or  a  murderer  ?  No  one  knew  that  she 
had  gone.  No  one  would  miss  her  for 
long  hours,  perhaps.  She  saw  herself  lying 
stiff  and  still  in  the  snow.  She  saw  her 
self —  a  shrouded  figure  such  as  Louis's 
had  been  —  lying  on  a  stretcher  carried 
slowly  between  four  men.  And  it  was 
she  who  shuddered  audibly,  this  time. 
But  she  kept  on. 

The  place  at  which  she  had  told 
Creighton  to  meet  her  was  not  far  from 
the  hop-room.  It  was  in  a  corner  made 
by  an  angle  in  the  wall  of  the  quarter 
master's  storerooms  and  it  was  within  a 
few  yards  of  the  quadrangle  and  the  board 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     161 

walk  itself.  Surely  there  could  be  no 
danger  so  near  to  home. 

She  plucked  up  her  courage,  but  as  she 
came  into  the  angle  of  the  building,  she 
started,  nevertheless,  though  all  she  saw 
was  what  she  had  expected  to  see  —  the 
vague  and  dark  figure  of  a  man.  She 
went  nearer.  He  did  not  move.  She 
spoke  to  him.  He  answered.  It  was 
Creighton.  Without  a  word  he  held  out 
the  money  to  her.  She  took  it  in  both 
hands. 

"  Will  you  count  it,  please  ? "  he  said, 
whispering.  "There  are  six  five-dollar 
pieces.  You  will  not  need  to  see."  She 
felt  them  over,  counting.  There  were  six. 
She  wrapped  them  in  her  handkerchief  and 
slipped  it  into  an  inner  pocket  of  her  cloak. 

Creighton  spoke  to  her  again,  still  whis 
pering.  He  thanked  her  for  what  she 


162     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

had  done.  She  had  given  him  his  chance, 
he  said.  He  would  take  it.  He  would 
be  grateful  to  the  end  of  his  days.  Then 
he  went  back  in  the  direction  of  the  "  L" 
Troop  barracks,  and  Marian  waited  a 
moment  before  starting  home.  She  was  a 
little  surprised  now,  and  dazed  to  find  the 
thing  all  safely  over  and  herself  alive. 

But  just  as  she  emerged  from  the  thick 
shadow  of  the  angle  she  saw  a  group  of 
several  officers  come  out  from  the  hop- 
room  and,  taking  up  their  place  on  a 
corner  of  the  board  walk,  light  their  cigar 
ettes  and  fall  to  smoking  and  talking. 
They  were  directly  in  the  path  she  must 
take  to  get  home,  and  if  she  were  to  pass 
them,  they  might  recognize  her.  All  of 
them  knew  her  cloak*  quite  as  well  as  they 
did  herself. 

There    was    no    telling    how    long    they 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     163 

might  stand  there  —  longer,  certainly,  than 
she  would  care  to  stand  where  she  was. 
The  cold  was  beginning  to  penetrate.  So 
she  decided  to  make  a  detour.  At  the 
present  she  was  feeling  decidedly  brave. 
She  was  not  in  the  least  afraid  to  go 
back  of  the  storerooms  and  back  of  the 
quarters  on  that  side  of  the  square,  then 
come  into  the  quadrangle  again  at  the 
northwest  entrance,  instead  of  at  the 
northeast  one  where  she  was  now. 

She  started  cautiously  off,  keeping  close 
to  the  wall,  that  the  officers  might  not  see 
her  dark  form  against  the  snow. 

Two  hours  later  Haggarty,  marching  up 
and  down  behind  the  north  end  of  the 
quadrangle,  doing  his  monotonous  guard 
duty,  stopped  in  his  even  walk  and  lis 
tened.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  heard  a 
faint  and  muffled  sound,  rather  like  the 


164     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

weak  sobbing  of  a  child,  or  the  whining 
of  some  hurt  animal. 

He  traced  it  up,  halting  every  few  steps 
to  listen  again.  It  brought  him  to  the 
edge  of  a  deep  hole  in  the  ground,  a  post 
hole  that  had  been  dug  only  the  day  be 
fore  for  the  placing  of  a  telegraph  pole. 
He  stooped  over  and  looked  down. 
There  was  some  one  in  it  —  some  one  who 
was  moving  very  feebly. 

"  Who's  down  there  ? "  he  inquired, 
having  his  carbine  ready. 

He  caught  a  stifled  murmuring  of  his 
own  name.  "  Is  that  you,  Haggarty  ?  It's 
Miss  Marian.  I'm  dying,  I  think." 

Haggarty  was  a  sentinel,  but  his  carbine 
went  down  in  the  snow. 

"  No  you  ain't  neither,"  he  encouraged, 
on  general  principles.  "  Give  me  yer 
hands,"  he  said. 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     165 

Another  man  might  have  stopped  to 
find  out  how  she  had  gotten  in  there.  But 
not  Haggarty. 

Marian  moved  again.  "  I  can't,"  she 
moaned ;  "  they're  frozen  or  something." 

It  was  not  only  the  carbine  now  that 
was  down  in  the  snow.  Haggarty  was 
also.  He  lay  prone,  his  toes  dug  into  the 
earth  to  brace  himself.  He  ran  his  hands 
under  her  shoulders  and  raised  her  slowly, 
lifting  her  out  at  last.  He  set  her  on  her 
feet,  but  she  could  not  stand.  So  he  sup 
ported  her  with  one  arm,  even  while  he 
bent  over  and  picked  up  his  carbine. 

"  How  did  you  get  into  there  ? "  he 
asked  now.  He  showed  no  sign  of  espe 
cial  surprise.  It  might  have  been  a  nightly 
occurrence  to  find  the  daughters  of  officers 
half  frozen  in  post  holes  behind  the  quar 
ters.  But  Marian  knew  Haggarty  of  old. 


166     THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

And  she  knew  that  that  very  fact  was 
ominous.  She  would  have  been  glad  to 
have  had  him  rage  and  storm. 

"You  don't  hev  to  tell  me  if  you 
don't  feel  like  it,"  he  added. 

"  I'll  tell  you,  Haggarty,"  she  all  but 
wailed.  "  Really,  I  will.  But  not  now. 
Take  me  home  now.  And  don't  say  any 
thing  to  any  one.  Just  take  me  home." 

"  I'm  sentry,"  Haggarty  told  her 
shortly ;  "  I  can't  leave  my  post." 

"  But  I  can't  walk  alone  yet,"  she  had 
broken  down  and  was  sobbing.  "  And 
oh !  I  don't  want  any  one  else  to  know." 

"  Come  on,"  said  Haggarty,  without  an 
other  word.  He  knew  well  enough  .that 
it  was  past  midnight,  and  that  Captain 
Norris  would  soon  be  making  his  rounds 
to  visit  the  guard  —  if  indeed,  he  were  not 
doing  so  already. 


•'• 


, 


TM  SENTRY,  ...  I  CAN'T  LEAVE  MY  POST.' 


-. 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     169 

And  he  also  knew  what  it  would  mean 
for  him  to  be  found  absent  from  his  post. 
In  war  time  it  would  have  meant  death. 
It  would  not  mean  quite  that  now  —  only 
disgrace.  But  Haggarty  was  a  soldier  of 
the  right  school.  He  would  have  preferred 
death  to  disgrace.  In  fact,  he  settled  it  in 
his  own  mind  now,  as  he  trudged  through 
the  snow  carrying  Miss  Marian  and  his 
carbine ;  if  he  were  disgraced,  he  would 
put  an  end  to  a  life  that  would  be  unen 
durable.  But  at  present  he  must  save 
Miss  Marian. 

"  Can  you  manage  it  so  that  father 
won't  know  —  so  he  won't  hear  me  come 
in  ?  "  asked  Marian. 

"  I'll  do  me  best,"  replied  Haggarty. 

As  they  neared  the  house  he  stopped 
and  whispered  in  her  ear.  "  I'll  set  ye 
down  at  the  front  door.  You'd  best  go 


i  yo     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

upstairs  alone  —  on  your  hands  and  knees, 
if  ye  can't  make  it  any  other  way.  Maybe 
you  can  go  so  quiet  that  there  won't  no 
body  hear  ye.  If  they  do,  you  could  say 
you  just  came  home  from  the  hop,  but 
you  fell  down  in  the  snow.  Tell  them  you 
strained  your  knee  and  you  couldn't  get 
up  for  a  long  time.  That'll  account  too 
for  what  makes  you  so  stiff." 

"  But  it  wouldn't  be  true,"  objected 
Marian.  She  did  not  like  fibs. 

"Then  tell  them  the  truth,"  said  Hag- 
garty ;  "  I  don't  know  what  it  is." 

They  were  on  the  front  porch.  There 
was  a  light  in  the  sitting  room,  and  the 
curtains  were  up.  Captain  Norris  was  not 
in  there. 

"  Making  the  rounds,"  thought  Hag- 
garty,  knowing  his  own  case  was  bad. 
"  But  it's  good  for  Miss  Marian,"  he  told 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     171 

himself,  and  what  did  an  old  soldier  more 
or  less  matter,  after  all  ? 

"Your  father  ain't  there,  I  guess,"  he 
reassured  her.  "  Sneak  upstairs  quiet-like, 
and  get  yourself  into  bed  and  warm  up. 
Warm  up  the  quickest  way  you  know  how. 
And  tell  any  old  story  you  feel  like  —  the 
truth  or  anything.  I'll  hold  my  tongue 
and  never  let  on." 

Marian  was  still  too  dazed  to  be  more 
than  merely  rather  grateful,  and  very  glad 
that  her  father  was  not  at  home.  She  could 
not,  just  then,  take  in  the  possible  conse 
quences  of  things  for  Haggarty.  She  did 
not  realize  that  this  wind  which  was  blow 
ing  favorably  for  her  might  blow  very 
unfavorably  for  him. 

He  opened  the  door  for  her.  She  passed 
warily  in,  and  he  closed  it  without  a  sound. 
She  climbed  the  stairs  on  tiptoe,  slowly, 


172     THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

painfully.  There  was  no  feeling  in  her 
arms  and  legs.  But  there  was  too  much  in 
her  throat  and  sides.  And  the  blood  made 
a  roaring  noise  in  her  head. 

She  locked  herself  into  her  room,  and 
cowered  close  to  the  little  iron  stove,  where 
a  fire  still  burned.  There  was  to  be  a  sup 
per  after  the  hop.  It  would  be  hours  yet 
before  her  mother  would  be  home. 

Haggarty  went  back  to  his  beat  at  his 
fastest  run.  But  he  came  too  late.  Cap 
tain  Norris  was  before  him,  and  so,  too,  was 
disgrace. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THERE  was  nobody  in  the  Norris  family 
who  was  happy  in  the  least.  Marian  was 
ill,  burning  and  shivering  by  turns,  and  with 
a  throat  so  swollen  and  sore  that  she  could 
hardly  speak,  and  could  not  well  have  ex 
plained  how  she  had  come  by  it,  even  if  she 
had  been  asked.  But,  what  puzzled  her 
more  than  a  little,  she  was  not  asked. 

The  reason,  could  she  but  have  known  it, 
was  simple  enough,  however. 

Her  mother  had  not  seen  her  in  the  hop- 
room  after  the  hour  at  which  it  had  been 
agreed  she  should  leave ;  and  she  had,  very 
naturally,  supposed,  therefore,  that  Marian 
had  gone  straight  home. 

As  for  Captain  Norris,  he  had  slept 
173 


174     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

soundly  until  the  alarm  clock,  placed  close 
beside  his  chair,  had  gone  off  at  ten  minutes 
past  twelve  o'clock.  Then  he  had  buckled 
on  his  sabre  and  gone  forth  to  visit  the 
guard,  secure  in  the  belief  that  his  daughter 
—  who  was  usually  to  be  relied  upon  for 
keeping  her  promises  —  had  come  in  two 
hours  before,  and  gone  quietly  up  to  bed, 
without  disturbing  him.  So  no  one  was 
aware  that  there  had  been  the  long  interval 
when  she  was  neither  in  the  hop-room  nor 
in  her  pale-blue  iron  bunk.  And,  having 
no  suspicions,  it  had  never  even  occurred  to 
Mrs.  Norris  to  look  at  the  frock  which 
Marian  had  worn,  and  which  —  stained  and 
crumpled  in  a  way  which  might  have  caused 
her  to  wonder  and  to  question,  had  she  seen 
it  —  was  hanging  well  back  in  the  closet, 
out  of  sight. 

There   had   been   no   sign   of  illness    the 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     175 

night  before  —  very  much  on  the  contrary, 
in  fact.  Mrs.  Norris  had  gone  into  Mar 
ian's  room,  before  going  to  bed,  as  she 
always  did,  and  what  little  of  the  towsled 
fair  head  had  showed  above  the  counter 
pane  had  been  so  still  as  to  suggest 
peaceful  sleep.  So  Mrs.  Norris  had  been 
satisfied. 

Yet,  by  morning,  the  trouble  was  already 
serious.  Whereupon  Mrs.  Norris  jumped 
at  her  own  conclusions.  Marian,  she  de 
cided,  had  been  overheated  with  dancing 
when  she  had  gone  out  from  the  hop- 
room.  "  You  were,  were  you  not,  dear  ? " 
she  asked. 

Marian  nodded  her  head  and  made 
some  unintelligible  sound  in  her  hot  and 
swollen  throat.  It  was  quite  true  that  she 
had  been  very  warm  when  she  had  slipped 
out  of  the  back  door  of  the  post  hall. 


176     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

Also  —  she  had  stood  for  an  hour  in  the 
snow,  without  her  overshoes,  on  the  day 
of  the  fire. 

Mrs.  Norris  was  satisfied.  Certainly  here 
were  reasons  enough  for  any  amount  of 
chills  and  fever  and  sore  throat.  When 
the  doctor  came  in  she  explained  to  him 
her  idea  of  the  causes,  and  Marian,  lying 
listening  and  speechless,  felt  guilty  to  the 
last  degree.  She  was  not  telling  a  fib,  to 
be  sure,  but  she  was  consenting  to  one, 
and  it  troubled  her  very  much  —  even 
more  than  the  pain. 

Yet  even  if  she  could  have  spoken  so 
as  to  be  understood,  how  could  she  have 
set  her  mother  and  the  doctor  right  with 
out  telling  on  Creighton  and  undoing 
nearly  all  that  she  had  done  for  him  ? 
The  tears  came  into  her  eyes.  It  was  a 
very  complicated  world,  and,  just  now,  a 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     177 

very  wretched  one.  Yet  only  the  night 
before  she  had  been  having  such  a  good 
time.  And  here  was  the  doctor  saying 
now  that  her  case  might  possibly  prove 
grave  and  that  she  must  have  the  very 
best  of  care. 

This  in  itself  was  bad  enough.  But 
there  was  more,  of  which  Marian  was  not 
allowed  to  know.  Haggarty  was  in  the 
guard-house,  and  upon  the  most  serious 
of  charges.  He  had  been  absent  from  his 
post  on  guard,  and  had  had  no  satis 
factory  account  to  give  of  himself. 

"  I  can't  tell  ye,  Captain,"  he  had  said 
to  his  troop  commander,  mournfully,  but 
with  resolution.  "  I'll  have  to  watch  the 
gulls  at  Alcatraz  for  a  few  years,  I  guess. 
I  swear  to  ye,  sor,  that  my  reason  was  a 
good  one  —  that  it  wasn't  no  discredit  to 
me.  You'll  believe  that,  won't  ye,  sor  ?  " 


178     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

He  was  fairly  wistful  as  he  asked  it,  the 
toughened  old  Irishman  of  many  scouts. 
He  waited  for  Captain  Norris's  answer, 
watching  his  face ;  and  suddenly  his  own 
face  changed. 

"  You  ain't  disbelieving  me,  Captain  ?  " 
he  pleaded,  "  sure  ye  ain't  ?  "  His  eyes 
were  growing  horrified. 

It  was  more  than  the  Captain  could 
stand.  "  No,  Haggarty,  no,  of  course 
not,"  he  forced  himself  to  say. 

Haggarty  looked  relieved.  "  I  wouldn't 
have  deserved  that,  sor,"  he  said. 

If  Captain  Norris  had  gone  back  on  him, 
Haggarty  would  have  felt  that  the  worst 
thing  possible  had  befallen  him.  As  it 
was,  Marian  herself  had  not  confided  in 
him ;  he  was  under  arrest  for  the  blackest 
of  military  offences,  the  record  of  all  those 
years  of  honorable  service  was  wiped  out. 


"  '  YOU    AIN'T  DISBELIEVING  ME,  CAPTAIN  ?      SURE   YE   AIN'T  ?  '  " 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     181 

It  would  only  have  needed  that  Captain 
Norris  should  have  doubted  his  given 
word.  Then  the  world  would  have  held 
nothing  further  for  Haggarty. 

"  But  see  here,  Haggarty,"  had  argued 
Captain  Norris,  "  you  mustn't  be  an  old 
fool.  I  believe  you.  But  you  don't  think 
that  that  sort  of  justification  is  going  to 
go  down  with  a  court-martial,  I  suppose  ? " 

Haggarty  shook  his  head.  "  It's  the 
only  one  they're  going  to  be  likely  to  get, 
sor,"  he  said  doggedly.  And  beyond  that 
there  was  nothing  to  be  had  from  him. 

If  Haggarty  was  unhappy,  Captain 
Norris  was,  as  well.  "  I'd  almost  rather 
the  whole  blooming  troop  had  mutinied, 
than  have  had  Haggarty  come  to  this,"  he 
said  to  his  wife.  "  And  I'd  like  to  know," 
he  added,  "  what  kink  he  has  got  into  his 
old  head,  anyway.  He  might  trust  me 


182     THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

with  his  secret,  whatever  it  is  —  even  if  he 
doesn't  want  to  tell  the  court.  I  might  be 
able  to  help  the  old  codger  out,  to  some 
extent." 

"  You  might  suppose,"  was  Mrs.  Norris's 
suggestion,  "  that  there  was  some  girl  in 
the  case,  if  it  weren't  that  we've  never 
heard  of  his  taking  the  slightest  notice  of 
one." 

Captain  Norris  scoffed  at  the  idea. 
"  Haggarty  in  love !  Why,  Haggarty 
hasn't  had  any  affection  to  spare  for  any 
other  feminine  being  since  the  day  that 
Marian  was  born.  She's  the  only  '  best 
girl '  he's  ever  had.  No ;  it's  not  a  love 
affair."  Mrs.  Norris  shook  her  head. 
Things  were  certainly  about  as  bad  as  they 
well  could  be,  it  seemed  to  her  just  then. 

But  they  were  capable  of  becoming  even 
worse  —  and  presently  they  did. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     183 

On  the  outskirts  of  the  reservation  there 
lived  a  man  by  the  name  of  Lewinsky. 
His  name  was  believed  to  be  Polish,  but 
his  nationality  was  an  unsettled  affair.  By 
his  own  accounts  —  which  varied  at  vari 
ous  times  —  the  blood  running  in  his 
veins  was  of  so  mixed  a  quality  that  he 
was  generally  known,  about  the  post,  as 
the  Franco-Prussian-Anglo-Roman-Greco- 
Russian. 

Lewinsky  kept  a  small  ranch  in  the 
creek  bottom,  and  furnished  the  garrison 
with  such  vegetables  as  the  post  gardens 
did  not  grow,  or  grow  in  sufficient  quanti 
ties.  It  was  commonly  believed  that  this 
was  not  his  only  way  of  gaining  a  liveli 
hood.  It  seemed  to  matter  very  little  to 
him  whether  he  sold  vegetables  or  not,  and 
very  often  he  failed  to  put  in  his  appear 
ance  with  his  wagon,  for  days  at  a  time. 


1 84     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

But  what  his  other  sources  of  income  were, 
nobody  seemed  to  know.  Only  they  were 
not  thought  to  be  especially  creditable. 

The  Franco  -  Prussian  -  Anglo  -  Roman  - 
Greco -Russian  was  not  the  most  pleasant 
of  persons.  Nobody  in  the  garrison  fancied 
him  very  much,  and  the  consequence  was 
that  the  joy  of  the  soldiers  was  very  great 
when  a  civilian  was  found  in  the  town 
some  miles  away,  wearing  a  couple  of  the 
very  things  that  had  disappeared  so  mys 
teriously  from  the  "  L "  Troop  barracks. 
He  admitted  that  he  had  bought  them 
from  Lewinsky.  The  watch  of  Ewing, 
the  recruit,  was  amongst  them.  The  mar 
ket-gardener  with  the  shifty  eyes  would  be 
kept  off  the  reservation  in  future.  That 
was  a  foregone  conclusion.  But  there 
would  probably  be  more  results  than  just 
that. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     185 

When  the  news  was  reported  to  the  com 
mandant,  the  Second  Lieutenant  of  "L" 
Troop  and  the  Sheriff  from  the  county  seat 
drove  together  in  a  buckboard  to  the  Lo- 
winsky  vegetable  ranch.  They  found  the 
rancher  at  home,  and  they  found  a  number 
more  of  the  things,  that  had  been  missing 
from  the  barracks,  in  his  log  cabin.  All 
that  lacked  was  the  money. 

The  account  which  Lewinsky  gave  of 
how  he  had  come  by  it  all  was  not  satis 
factory  either  to  the  Lieutenant  or  to  the 
Sheriff.  He  was  allowed  to  lock  up  his 
cabin  and  feed  his  stock.  Then  he  had  to 
get  into  the  buckboard  with  the  other  two 
and  drive  back  to  the  post,  looking  very 
uncomfortable  and  with  his  queer  eyes 
shifting  more  than  ever. 

But  he  was  sharp  enough,  in  his  way. 
He  knew  that  he  had  made  mistakes  in  what 


1 86     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

he  had  already  said.  So  he  decided  that 
unless  he  should  be  obliged  to,  he  would 
not  say  anything  more. 

It  was  a  short  drive  to  the  garrison ;  but 
while  he  took  it  —  sitting  stolidly  on  the 
back  seat  of  the  buckboard,  beside  the 
county  officer — he  made  up  his  mind  to 
several  things. 

He  knew  very  well  that  not  one  of  the 
soldiers  —  excepting  perhaps  Creighton  — 
had  any  use  or  liking  for  him.  For  that 
matter,  he  had  none  for  them.  Yet  there 
was  one  to  whom  he  owed  a  particular  grudge. 
Nearly  all  the  men  had  teased  him,  a  good 
many  had  played  practical  jokes  upon  him, 
and  several  had  done  worse  than  that.  But 
there  was  still  the  one  whom  he  hated  above 
all  these.  It  was  a  certain  old  Irishman  who 
had  come  upon  him  one  day,  in  the  hollow, 
back  of  the  officers'  quarters,  and  had  found 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     187 

him  pelting,  with  stones  and  broken  glass 
from  a  dump  heap,  a  lame  puppy  which 
belonged  in  the  post  gardens. 

The  Irishman  had  crept  up  behind  him 
quietly.  Lewinsky  had  not  heard.  He  had 
been  enjoying  himself  too  much,  chuckling 
over  the  yelps  of  the  poor  little  animal 
which  was  dragging  itself  away  as  fast  as  it 
could  go.  The  first  he  had  known  of  any 
body's  presence  had  been  when  he  felt  the 
big  stone  that  struck  him  between  the 
shoulders.  The  Irishman's  aim  was  good, 
and  he  could  throw  stones  and  broken  glass 
considerably  farther  than  the  Franco- Prussian- 
Anglo-Roman-Greco-Russian  himself.  So 
Lewinsky  was  pelted  all  the  while  that  he 
was  covering  a  full  hundred  yards  uphill, 
bent  almost  double,  with  his  arms  pro 
tecting  his  head.  He  had  not  only  been 
pretty  well  bruised,  but  he  had  had  several 


i88     THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

cuts,  as  well,  and  one  or  two  of  them  had 
left  scars. 

He  had  never  forgiven  the  Irishman ; 
though  the  latter  had,  always  after,  met  him 
with  a  grin.  He  had  answered  the  grin  with 
a  dark  scowl.  But  he  had  had  no  chance  to 
get  even.  Now,  however,  he  had.  And  he 
meant  to  use  it.  He  was  sure  to  be  punished 
in  one  way  or  another  himself.  He  was 
quite  prepared  for  that.  But  at  least  he 
would  draw  the  Irishman  into  it  and  have 
him  punished  too. 

So  he  answered  Captain  Norris's  questions 
glibly  enough  —  much  more  glibly  than  he 
had  answered  in  his  own  log  cabin.  It  was 
not  by  any  means  the  same  story  he  had  told 
the  Sheriff  and  the  Second  Lieutenant,  that 
he  told  the  Captain.  But  that  was  a  small 
matter  and  did  not  much  trouble  him.  He 
was  hardly  even  shamefaced  over  it. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     189 

No,  he  had  not  known  that  the  things 
he  had  bought  had  been  stolen  ones,  he  said. 
How  should  he  have  known  ?  He  had 
supposed  all  soldiers  were  honest.  Yes,  it 
had  been  a  soldier  who  had  brought  the 
things  to  him  ;  oh  !  yes.  Who  ?  Must  he 
tell  ?  He  need  not  tell  at  present  unless  he 
chose  to,  Captain  Norris  answered  him.  He 
might  do  as  he  liked  about  that. 

But  the  rancher  was  not  going  to  let  his 
one  chance  slip  like  this.  "  I  will  tell  you," 
he  hastened.  And  he  told. 

Captain  Norris  made  no  sign.  It  was  quite 
impossible  to  guess  how  he  was  taking  it. 
He  merely  nodded  his  head  shortly. 

"  That  will  do,"  he  said  ;  "  we  won't  want 
you  here  any  longer  just  now."  So  Lowin- 
sky  and  the  Sheriff  went  out. 

When  they  were  left  alone,  the  Lieuten 
ant  looked  at  the  Captain,  and  the  Captain 


igo     THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

looked  at  the  Lieutenant.  The  Captain 
shook  his  head  again.  Then  he  got  up 
from  his  chair,  walked  over  to  the  hearth, 
and  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire.  He  was 
silent,  studying  the  fringe  of  the  rug.  In 
a  few  minutes  more  he  shook  his  head 
once  again.  The  matter  was  evidently  be 
yond  words. 

Just  then  Mrs.  Norris  came  into  the 
room.  She  looked  even  more  worried  than 
she  had  looked  all  the  rest  of  the  day. 
Marian,  she  told  her  husband,  was  getting 
a  little  better  —  she  could  speak  fairly  well 
now,  and  she  was  asking  to  see  Haggarty. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  Mrs.  Norris 
wanted  to  know.  "  I  can't  tell  her  that 
he  is  in  the  guard-house.  It  would  sim 
ply  break  her  heart,  even  if  she  were  well. 
As  it  was  now,  it  might  make  her  danger 
ously  ill.  The  doctor  has  said  she  is  not 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     191 

to  be  excited  —  that  she  must  be  kept  as 
quiet  as  possible." 

The  Captain  hesitated.  "  Tell  her,"  he 
said,  "  that  I  say  Haggarty  has  got  some 
thing  else  to  do  besides  neglecting  his 
duty  to  run  at  the  beck  and  call  of  girls. 
It's  contrary  to  all  good  order  and  mili 
tary  discipline.  Besides,  she's  too  big  to 
be  sending  for  him  when  she's  ill  in  bed. 
She  can't  get  over  treating  Haggarty  as 
though  she  were  still  about  four  years  old. 
Just  tell  her  Haggarty  isn't  going  to  be 
sent  for." 

The  Captain  was  cross.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  everything  was  going  wrong  in 
the  most  maddening  way.  Mrs.  Norris 
went  to  carry  the  message  upstairs.  It 
was  rather  severe,  but  it  would  not  be  so 
hard  on  Marian,  after  all,  as  the  truth 
itself. 


192     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

There  was  a  ring  at  the  front  door-bell. 
The  Captain  walked  to  the  window,  hum 
ming  the  words  from  the  opera, — 

"  To  thee,  fair  moon,  I  sing  ;  bright  regent  of  the  heavens, 
Say  —  why  is  everything  either  at  sixes  or  sevens  ?  " 

He  glanced  out  and  saw  the  first  ser 
geant  of  the  troop  standing  on  the  porch. 

"It's  Allison,"  he  remarked  to  the 
Lieutenant,  setting  his  lips  tightly.  "  I 
wonder  what's  wrong  now.  '  It  never 
rains  but  it  pours,' "  he  quoted,  as  he  went 
to  open  the  door  himself. 

He  stood  in  the  hallway,  talking  a  little 
while.  Then  he  came  back,  for  a  minute, 
into  the  sitting  room. 

"You  didn't  happen  to  give  that  fellow 
Creighton  —  the  recruit,  you  know  —  a 
mounted  pass,  did  you  ? "  he  inquired. 

"  I  ?  "  queried  the  Lieutenant,  surprised, 
"why,  no." 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     193 

The  Captain  went  out  again  into  the 
hall.  Presently  the  door  was  shut,  the 
sergeant  went  down  the  steps,  and  Cap 
tain  Norris  took  up  his  stand  in  front  of 
the  fire  again. 

"Well,"  he  said,  with  the  accent  of 
resignation,  "  Creighton's  lit  out,  I  expect." 

"  What !  "  demanded  the  Lieutenant,  in 
credulous.  "  You  don't  mean  that  nice, 
smooth-faced  kid  who  thought  he  was  go 
ing  to  win  his  shoulder  knots  some  day?" 

"That's  whom  I  mean,"  the  Captain 
made  answer.  "  His  chances  of  shoulder 
knots  are  slim  from  now  on,  by  the  looks 
of  it.  Seems  that  about  half  an  hour  be 
fore  Lewinsky  was  brought  in  he  was 
around  all  right.  He  was  sitting  on  CF' 
company  porch  with  a  lot  of  men  who 
had  been  playing  football.  They  were 
talking  about  the  finding  of  Ewing's  watch 


194     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

and  the  other  things  that  were  on  that 
citizen.  Those  things  get  around  in  the 
most  surprising  hurry  in  the  barracks. 
Creighton  didn't  seem  very  much  inter 
ested,  Allison  says  —  looked  as  if  he  were 
thinking  about  something  else.  He  got 
up  pretty  soon  and  walked  away.  By  and 
by  he  showed  up  at  the  corrals  with  a 
mounted  pass  gotten  up  in  good  style,  all 
O.K.  Here  it  is  —  you  can  see  for  your 
self."  He  tossed  it  to  the  Lieutenant. 
"  You'd  swear  that  it  was  my  signature, 
wouldn't  you,  though  ?  " 

The  Lieutenant  examined  it.  "You  cer 
tainly  would,"  he  agreed.  "  Took  pains 
to  get  it  up  in  approved  style,  didn't 
he?" 

"Well,"  finished  the  Captain,  going  over 
and  taking  back  the  pass,  folding  it  care 
fully,  and  putting  it  in  the  pocket  of  his 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     195 

blouse,  "  he  got  his  caballo,  saddled  it 
deliberately,  told  some  cock-and-bull  story 
as  to  riding  over  to  town  to  carry  a  mes 
sage  about  Lowinsky  to  the  judges  for 
me,  and  went  off,  as  cool  and  collected  as 
you  please.  He's  got  a  good  start,"  he 
added.  "  It's  almost  dark  now.  They 
won't  catch  him  to-night,  if  they  do  at  all." 

The  Lieutenant  had  nothing  to  say. 

"Great  troop  I've  got  —  now,  isn't  it?" 
inquired  the  disgusted  Captain.  "  Nice, 
respectable,  military  kind  of  a  troop.  I 
ought  to  be  proud  of  it." 

There  was  another  silence.  The  Cap 
tain  thought  of  something,  abruptly. 

"  See  here,"  he  said,  "  I  wish  you'd  just 
look  over  a  requisition  —  I've  got  to  go 
over  to  the  Commanding  Officer's.  You 
give  it  a  glance  before  I  get  back.  I'll 
bring  you  the  blanks." 


196    THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

He  went  into  the  dining  room,  to  the 
desk,  drew  a  key-ring  from  his  pocket, 
and  unlocked  the  second  drawer.  There 
followed  a  rattling  of  money.  He  came 
back  with  the  requisition  paper  in  his 
hand,  and  a  most  perplexed  frown  on  his 
brow. 

"  I  wonder  what  the  mischief  is  happen 
ing  to  me  now  ! "  he  said.  "  The  troop 
only  needs  a  crazy  captain  to  be  about  per 
fect,  and  I  must  be  going  loco.  The  last 
time  I  was  at  that  troop-fund  box  —  nearly 
a  month  ago  —  there  were  only  big  silver 
pieces  in  it,  large  ones,  —  four-bits  and 
dollars.  Now  it's  half  full  of  quarters  and 
dimes  and  stuff,  —  regular  f  chicken-feed,' — 
but  the  amount's  all  right." 

"  Guess  you're  mixed,"  said  the  Lieu 
tenant,  cheerfully,  not  paying  much  atten 
tion,  and  already  looking  over  the  paper. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     197 

"  You  ought  not  to  have  much  cash  kick 
ing  around  that  drawer,  though.  It's  too 
easy  to  get  into,  and  burglary  seems  to  be 
growing  to  be  the  style." 

The  Captain  accepted  it  without  reply. 
He  was  inclined  to  think  that  perhaps  the 
Lieutenant  was  right.  But  the  change  of 
the  coins  puzzled  him.  He  went  off  to 
the  Commanding  Officer's. 

First  call  for  retreat  was  sounding  when 
he  came  back.  Mrs.  Norris  met  him  in 
the  hall. 

"  Marian's  crying  because  you  won't  let 
her  see  Haggarty,"  she  said ;  "  I'm  afraid 
it's  bad  for  her  fever,  too.  She  says  she's 
got  something  to  tell  him  about.  It  can't 
be  very  important,  of  course,"  she  reasoned. 

"  Oh !  I  know  what  it  is,"  said  the 
harassed  Captain ;  "  she  wanted  to  talk 
to  him  about  the  stealing  of  those  things 


198    THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

from  the  barracks.  It's  too  late  now. 
She'd  better  stop  crying  about  it." 

"  It's  because  she's  ill  that  she's  so 
childish,  I  suppose,"  her  mother  excused 
her. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Captain,  taking  a 
resolution  and  making  the  plunge,  "  it'll 
be  many  a  long  day  before  she  sees  Hag- 
garty  again,  I  expect.  I'm  afraid  Haggarty 
has  gone  to  the  dogs,  this  late  in  life." 

"  Anything  worse  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Norris  ; 
"  anything  worse  than  last  night,  that  is  ?  " 

"  Not  worse,"  said  her  husband.  "  It 
couldn't  be  worse,  very  well.  But  it's 
more  of  it.  You've  heard  me  speak  of 
the  things  stolen  from  the  barracks  ?  Well 
—  I  didn't  tell  you  to  whom  I  found  that 
suspicion  was  pointing,  even  then." 

Mrs.  Norris  was  growing  pale.  Her 
husband  went  on.  "  You  needn't  let 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     199 

Marian  know  yet  awhile ;  but  we've 
found  the  things.  They  were,  some  of 
them,  on  a  citizen  who  had  bought  them 
from  Lowinsky,  and  the  rest  of  them  in 
Lewinsky's  hut.  Lowinsky  says  he  bought 
them  from  a  soldier,  in  his  turn.  And  he 
says  —  now  mind  you  keep  it  from  Marian 
—  he  says  the  soldier  was  Haggarty." 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE  two  invalids  of  the  household  were 
amusing  themselves.  Mrs.  Norris  had 
constructed  an  ingenious  arrangement  of 
strings  and  pulleys  between  the  room  in 
which  Marian  sat  up  in  bed,  with  a  band 
aged  throat  and  innumerable  shawls  around 
her;  and  that  other  room  in  which  Louis 
Beveridge  was  propped  up,  slowly  getting 
back  to  health,  and  shedding,  one  by  one, 
his  bandages. 

By  means  of  the  string  and  pulleys  they 
were  sending  notes  back  and  forth.  Each 
was  provided  with  a  pencil  and  pad  and 
each  was  having  quite  as  enjoyable  a  time 
as  the  circumstances  would  permit.  The 
notes  were  short  but  very  numerous. 

200 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     201 

The  pulley  kept  squeaking  pretty  stead 
ily.  There  was  a  tremendous  deal  to  be 
asked  and  told  about.  Louis  was  doing 
most  of  the  asking,  and  Marian  was  giv 
ing  him  information  concerning  the  hap 
penings  of  that  fortnight  during  which  he 
had  been  unconscious  of  all  that  was  going 
on  in  the  garrison. 

It  was  a  varied  budget  of  news.  The 
Hot  Springs  outbreak  had  amounted  to 
just  nothing  at  all.  The  detachment  of 
"  D "  Troop  was  long  since  back.  The 
Indians  had  returned  to  the  reservation 
and  had  done  no  harm  beyond  stealing 
and  driving  off  ranch  stock. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  wrote  Marian,  "  but  it 
was  not  the  season  of  the  year  to  expect 
a  really  good  outbreak.  We'll  try  to  give 
you  one  before  you  go  back  East,  though. 
It  won't  do  for  you  to  miss  anything." 


202    THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

The  damage  to  the  Beveridge  quarters 
was  already  being  repaired.  "And  you 
probably  know  that  your  uncle  lost  his 
pocket-book  with  fifty  dollars  in  it."  — 
The  hop  had  proved  a  great  success,  "  but 
I  had  to  go  at  ten  o'clock."  —  An  "L" 
Troop  horse  had  had  the  blind  stag 
gers  and  had  had  to  be  shot.  Also  Hag- 
garty  had  taught  Puggy-Wuggy  to  sit  up 
—  and  Louis  might  make  him  perform 
his  trick  at  any  time.  So  it  ran. 

Then  Marian  asked  a  question  on  her 
own  account.  What  had  been  the  warning 
against  Creighton,  begun  in  the  quarter 
master's  corral  and  never  finished? 

There  was  a  longer  pause  than  usual 
in  the  squeaking  of  the  pulleys.  Louis 
was  writing  out  his  answer,  and  it  was 
rather  long.  Then  he  pinned  the  folded 
sheet  of  paper  to  the  cord,  and  it  went 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     203 

sliding  along  to  the  other  room.  Marian 
unpinned  and  unfolded  it  and  read. 

When  she  had  finished,  she  sat  looking 
straight  in  front  of  her.  She  was  seeing 
a  great  many  things  from  a  new  point  of 
view.  To  more  matters  than  one  her 
eyes  were  being  opened  very  wide.  Her 
faith  in  her  own  judgment  had  been  tot 
tering  a  good  deal  of  late.  It  now  fell 
with  a  great  crash. 

So  this  was  the  man  for  whom  she  had 
gone  through  so  much  uneasiness  and  had 
come  so  near  a  serious  illness  —  a  forger  and 
a  thief! 

By  and  by  she  wrote  another  note  to 
Louis.  "  Are  you  absolutely  sure  of  all 
that  ?  "  she  asked  in  it. 

"  Dead  sure,"  was  the  confident  reply. 
"  He  was  in  my  father's  office.  I  ought 
to  know."  And  then  there  followed  a  few 


204    THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

more  details,  —  how  Mr.  Beveridge  had 
hushed  the  matter  up  and  paid  back  the 
amount  himself  to  give  young  Levering 
another  chance.  "  Father  had  known  his 
mother  before  she  died,  and  she  was  a  very 
decent  sort  of  a  woman.  So  he  did  it  for 
her  sake  more  than  for  Levering's,"  he 
wrote. 

The  next  note  brought  an  outline  of 
Levering's  life  from  the  time  he  had  been 
expelled  from  public  school  for  unruliness 
and  dishonesty  until  he  had  left  New 
York,  promising  Mr.  Beveridge  faithfully 
that  he  would  be  good  for  evermore. 
"  We'll  see  how  he'll  keep  his  promise," 
Louis  finished. 

But  Marian  had  already  seen.  There 
was  no  need  of  Louis  knowing  that,  how 
ever.  Instead,  the  twinegram  carried  an 
other  question.  "  You  say  that  Creighton's 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     205 

—  Levering's  —  mother  is  dead.  Hasn't 
he  any  family  ?  " 

"  Not  a  human,"  came  back  the  prompt 
reply.  "  Hasn't  had  since  he  was  about 
fourteen  years  old.  He  was  an  only  child, 
and  his  mother  was  a  widow  —  that's  one 
reason  father  was  sorry  for  him." 

Marian  thought  of  the  mother  and  the 
family  of  helpless  ones  about  whom  she 
had  heard  the  pathetic  tale  of  woe  that 
afternoon  in  the  troop  corral. 

But  there  remained  still  one  thing  un 
explained.  There  was  still  a  loophole  of 
escape  —  the  shadow  of  a  chance  that  Louis 
might  yet  be  mistaken  and  she  herself 
right.  She  reminded  him  of  it.  "  Creigh- 
ton  never  seemed  to  recognize  you,"  she 
suggested. 

"  Don't  you  worry,"  came  the  scribbled 
answer.  "  He  recognized  me  jolly  well, 


206     THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

and  it's  Sam  Patch  himself  he  had  rather 
have  had  around  the  post  than  my  humble 
self." 

Thereafter,  for  a  while,  there  was  a  pause. 
The  voice  of  the  pulley  was  no  more 
heard  in  the  house.  The  invalids  were 
both  taking  a  rest. 

Marian  was  tracing  out  the  course  of  a 
long  crack  in  the  calcimining  of  the  ceiling, 
while  she  lay  back  and  pondered  many 
things.  And  the  meditations  were  not  so 
pleasant  but  that  she  was  glad  to  have  them 
interrupted,  as  presently  they  were. 

There  was  a  step  in  the  hallway,  and 
Martha  Lorrimer  came  into  the  room.  She 
had  brought  back  some  sewing  she  had 
been  doing  for  Mrs.  Norris.  And  she 
had  come  upstairs,  she  explained,  because 
the  cook  had  told  her  to,  and  Mrs.  Norris 
was  with  some  one  in  the  sitting  room. 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     207 

Marian  had  always  liked  Martha.  They 
had  been  stationed  together  at  intervals, 
since  Marian  had  been  three  years  old  and 
Martha  five.  And  they  had  played  to 
gether  in  their  childhood  days.  The  time 
for  that  was  past  of  course,  now  that  the  Ser 
geant-major's  daughter  was  a  woman  and  the 
officer's  daughter  fast  becoming  one.  But 
the  friendship  was  still  sincere. 

There  was  something  wrong  with  Martha 
now,  and  Marian  saw  it  at  once.  The  face 
beneath  the  mass  of  deep  auburn  hair  was 
very  pale,  and  there  was  a  look  about  the 
eyes  which  suggested  that  they  might  have 
been  open  all  night.  The  mirror  had  re 
flected  to  Marian  something  that  same  look 
two  or  three  times  within  the  last  few  weeks, 
and  she  guessed  at  once  the  meaning  of  it. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Martha  ? "  she 
asked. 


208     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

Martha  laid  the  things  she  had  brought 
upon  a  chair.  "  The  matter  ?  "  she  said 
carelessly.  Then  she  walked  over  to  a 
window  and  stood  looking  out. 

"Yes,"   insisted   Marian,    "what  is  it?" 

"  Oh !  nothing,"  said  Martha. 

Marian  played  the  spoiled  invalid  now 
with  some  success.  "  Martha,"  she  com 
manded,  "  come  here  to  me." 

Martha  did  not  move. 

"  If  you  don't,"  warned  Marian,  "  I 
will  get  up  and  go  to  you,  and  that 
might  be  bad  for  me."  She  meant  it. 
The  other  girl  knew  well  enough  that  she 
did.  She  had  a  clear  recollection  of  a 
certain  day,  long  gone  by,  when  a  very 
small  yellow-haired  toddler,  in  despair  be 
cause  a  somewhat  larger  red-haired  toddler 
refused  to  play  house  in  a  beautiful  pack 
ing-box,  had  threatened  to  eat  the  orange- 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     209 

colored  berries  that  grew  on  certain  bushes 
on  the  parade.  The  berries  were  supposed 
to  be  poisonous,  and  the  yellow-haired  one 
had  often  been  told  she  would  die  if  she 
were  to  put  them  in  her  mouth.  But  she 
had  eaten  three  of  them  just  the  same,  de 
termined  to  end  a  life  which  was  worth 
nothing  unless  her  very  best  friend  would 
make  up  and  play  house  with  her. 

That  the  berries  had  had  no  especial 
effect  one  way  or  another  had  not  been  the 
fault  of  the  self-willed  Marian.  She  had 
kept  her  word  then,  and  she  would  probably 
do  so  now.  And,  as  she  said,  if  she  did,  it 
might  be  bad  for  her. 

Martha  left  the  window,  therefore,  and 
took  the  chair  by  the  side  of  the  bed. 

"Are  you  worried?"  asked  Marian. 

"  And  if  I  were,"  evaded  Martha,  "  what 
could  you  do  about  it  ?  " 


210    THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

But  Marian  was  not  to  be  side-tracked. 
"  Is  your  mother  ill  ?  "  she  inquired.  Mar 
tha  shook  her  head.  "  Or  your  father  ?  " 
The  dark  head  was  shaken  again. 

Marian  was  silent  for  a  moment.  She 
remembered  what  she  had  heard  from  her 
own  father  and  the  Second  Lieutenant.  She 
reached  out  her  hand  from  under  the  bed 
clothes  and  laid  it  upon  Martha  Lorrimer's. 

"Has  anything  happened  to — Creigh- 
ton  ?  "  she  asked. 

The  tears  came  on  Martha's  long  lashes. 
But  her  voice  hardly  shook.  "  Didn't  you 
know  about  him  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Know  about  him  ? "  said  Marian. 
"  Know  what  ?  " 

"  Didn't  you  know  that  he  deserted  last 
night  ? " 

It  was  not  only  quickly  that  Marian  sat 
up  —  it  was  with  a  spring. 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     211 

"  Deserted ! "  she  demanded  in  a  low 
tone.  "  Not  really  deserted  ?  " 

But  it  seemed  that  it  was  "  really  de 
serted "  when  Martha  had  given  her  the 
particulars.  And  the  men  who  had  gone 
out  after  him  had  not  yet  returned. 

"  Do  you  hope  he  will  get  away  ?  "  asked 
Marian,  watching  the  white,  young  face, 
half  in  sympathy,  half  with  the  curiosity  of 
a  girl  interested  in  a  romance. 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  want  to  have 
him  brought  back,  as  if  he  was  a  kind  of  a 
criminal,  a  thief,  or  something  ?  Do  you 
think  I  would  like  to  see  him  lined  up  with 
the  other  prisoners  in  the  guard-house  ?  " 

But  why  had  he  done  it  ?  asked  Marian. 
Why  had  he  deserted?  Martha  turned  to 
her  quickly. 

"  It's  just  that  I  can't  possibly  imagine," 
she  said.  "  He  was  getting  along  so  well. 


212     THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

He  hadn't  had  any  trouble  with  the  men. 
He  hadn't  been  sick,  he  hadn't  even  had 
anything  to  do  that  he  didn't  like  —  polic 
ing  or  anything." 

Only  the  morning  before,  she  went  on 
with  the  confession,  he  had  talked  about 
how  well  he  was  going  to  like  the  service, 
and  what  he  would  do  when  he  should  get 
to  be  an  officer. 

"  Were  you,"  Marian  hesitated,  "  were 
you  going  to  be  married  to  him  if  he  had 
gotten  to  be  an  officer  ? "  Of  course  they 
both  understood  that  the  chance  of  that  was 
a  thing  of  the  past. 

"  He  said  so,"  answered  Martha.  There 
was  the  deepest  disappointment  in  her  tone. 
Marian  had  a  sudden  feeling  that  it  was 
more  that  disappointment  than  anything 
else  which  had  kept  the  girl  awake  the 
night  before  and  had  brought  the  tears  to 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     213 

her  big  gray  eyes  just  now.  To  have  been 
the  wife  of  an  officer  —  the  pretty  daughter 
of  the  Sergeant-major  might  well  have  looked 
forward  to  that.  And  she  naturally  did  not 
seem  to  realize  that  she  would  have  been 
doomed  to  disappointment  sooner  or  later, 
in  any  case.  But  Marian,  seeing  those 
things  from  the  standpoint  of  the  officers, 
did.  And  she  thought  the  disappointment 
was  better  now  than  by  and  by.  Yet  she 
could  not  help  feeling  a  little  sorry  that  the 
romance  she  had  come  upon  was  not  much 
more  than  a  half-childish  ambition  to  be  a 
fine  lady.  Martha  would  forget  it  very 
soon  no  doubt,  and  she  would  marry  some 
one  else  and  be  perfectly  happy. 

"And  you  didn't  know  he  was  going  to 
skip  out?"  asked  Marian.  Her  expres 
sions  were  often  ones  picked  up  from 
Haggarty. 


214    THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

Of  course  she  had  not  known  —  Martha 
was  a  little  cross  at  the  question.  It  was 
silly  on  the  face  of  it.  "  If  he'd  been  going 
to  tell  any  one,  you  don't  suppose  it  would 
have  been  me."  She  stood  up  and  began 
to  button  her  coat.  "Oh  !  well  —  there  are 
plenty  of  others,"  she  consoled  herself. 

Marian  knew  that  it  was  true  enough. 
Martha  was  much  too  pretty  to  lack  ad 
mirers  in  an  eight-company  post. 

"You  won't  tell  anybody?"  she  asked. 

"  No,"  answered  Marian.  And  it  did 
not  so  much  as  occur  to  Martha  to  exact  a 
promise.  She  had  yet  to  know  of  Marian 
breaking  her  word. 

She  stopped  at  the  door  and  turned  back 
a  little  way.  "  Ain't  it  too  bad  about  poor 
Haggarty  ? "  she  said,  thinking  for  the  first 
time  of  other  troubles  than  her  own. 

"  Haggarty?  "  questioned  Marian.  "  Why, 


*v« 

</fy 

THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     215 

what  about  Haggarty  ?  Is  he  ill  ?  Or  has 
he  — "  she  smiled  at  the  idea,  "has  he 
deserted,  too  ?  " 

Martha  was  open-mouthed  with  astonish 
ment.  "  Don't  you  know  ?  "  she  asked. 
Then  it  began  to  dawn  on  her  what  she  had 
perhaps  done,  and  she  flushed.  "  Maybe 
they  didn't  want  to  tell  you,"  she  said. 
"  I  never  thought  about  that." 

"But  what  is  it?"  Marian  stuck  to  it, 
eager  and  excited. 

"  Oh !  nothing  much,"  the  other  told 
her,  thoroughly  frightened  and  confused. 
"  I  must  be  going  home,"  she  added,  and 
hurried  away  without  another  word. 

It  was  only  a  moment  after  that  Marian 
heard  the  front  door  open  and  her  father's 
footsteps  in  the  hall.  She  made  one  great 
effort  to  bring  her  voice  to  something  louder 
than  a  croaking  whisper.  Then  she  called. 


216    THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

"  Coming  !  "  cried  Captain  Norris  —  and 
was  coming,  indeed,  three  stairs  at  a  time. 
The  anguish  of  her  strained,  hoarse  voice 
had  frightened  him.  He  thought  she  must 
be  in  some  dire  distress. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  demanded, 
very  much  out  of  breath.  He  was  not 
sure  what  he  had  expected  to  see  —  but  it 
had  certainly  not  been  merely  his  daughter 
sitting  up  in  bed,  safe  and  sound. 

"  What's  the  trouble,  sir  ?  "  called  Louis 
Beveridge's  anxious  voice,  from  the  end  of 
the  hall.  He,  too,  had  heard  the  call. 

"Nothing  —  apparently,"  answered  the 
Captain,  rather  dryly. 

"Yes,  there  is,  too,"  contradicted  Marian, 
the  whisper  hoarser  than  before,  if  anything. 
"What  has  happened  to  Haggarty?" 

Captain  Norris's  face  changed.  His 
expression  was  blank.  "  Who  told  you 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     217 

that  anything  has  ? "  he  asked,  gaining 
time. 

"  Martha  Lorrimer  did,"  she  answered, 
"  and  I  want  to  know." 

"  He's  in  the  guard-house,  then,"  said  the 
Captain,  taking  his  seat  by  her  bed.  He 
meant  to  break  it  to  her  as  gently  as  possi 
ble.  But  she  was  not  to  be  headed  off. 
Why  was  Haggarty  in  the  guard-house  ? 

"Well,"  temporized  her  father,  —  then 
came  out  with  the  truth  without  further 
delay,  "well,  he  was  absent  from  his  post 
night  before  last,  when  he  was  on  guard  — 
when  I  was  officer  of  the  day." 

That  was  the  certainty.  He  told  her 
of  it.  But  the  even  more  dreadful  suspi 
cion  he  kept  to  himself.  It  had  not,  as 
yet,  been  proven  that  Haggarty  was  a 
thief  as  well  —  though  there  could  be  little 
reasonable  doubt  of  it,  to  one  who  knew 


2i8    THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

the  facts.  Still,  until  it  was  proven,  there 
was  no  use  in  bothering  Marian  with  it. 

"  What  time  was  it  that  he  was  absent  ? " 
Marian  asked  evenly.  It  was  hardly  the 
way  her  father  had  expected  her  to  take 
it,  and  he  could  not  see  what  the  time 
could  matter  to  her,  but  he  told  her. 

"  Do  you  know  why  it  was  ?  "  she  went 
on. 

"  No,"  answered  Captain  Norris,  "  and 
he  refuses  to  tell." 

"Then  I'll  tell,"  said  Marian.  "It  was 
because  he  was  bringing  me  home." 

It  flashed  across  the  Captain's  mind  that 
she  might  be  in  a  fever  —  might  be  wan 
dering.  Yet  there  were  certainly  no  signs 
of  it.  She  was  trembling  hard,  but  that 
was  all.  He  knitted  his  brows.  "  What 
on  earth  are  you  talking  about  ? "  he 
asked. 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     219 

She  told  him. 

He  listened  to  the  story  with  a  face 
changing  from  astonishment  to  wrath. 
Surely,  in  all  his  army  life,  it  was  quite 
the  most  extraordinary,  unlikely,  undesirable 
tale  he  had  ever  heard.  It  was  outrageous. 

She  finished.     Then  he  spoke. 

"And  why,  may  I  ask,  did  you  tell 
Haggarty  not  to  let  me  know  ? "  Marian 
had  seen  her  father  angry,  but  never  so 
angry  as  he  was  now.  She  hesitated. 
"  Answer  me !  "  said  the  Captain,  shortly. 

If  he  had  thought  the  first  story  dread 
ful  and  extraordinary,  this  one  seemed 
nothing  less  than  totally  impossible. 
Surely  no  such  doings  had  ever  been 
known  of  an  officer's  daughter  before. 
But  he  waited  to  the  end. 

"So  you  knew  that  a  private  had 
stolen  my  troop  funds,  and  yet  you  took 


220    THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

it  upon  yourself  to  keep  the  fact  from 
me  and  to  manage  the  affair  alone  ?  You 
met  an  enlisted  man  on  the  porch  and  in 
the  corrals  and  in  the  corner  of  a  build 
ing  by  night  —  and  finally  you  ended  up 
by  getting  into  serious  trouble  and  lasting 
disgrace  an  old  fellow  who  has  been  your 
faithful  friend  ever  since  you  were  born  ? 
Is  that  what  I  am  to  understand  ? " 

Marian  had  managed  to  finish  the 
story,  but  now  she  had  quite  broken 
down.  She  was  sobbing  hard  and  miser 
ably.  She  could  only  nod  her  head. 

Captain  Norris  sat,  for  a  time,  without 
speaking. 

"  Well,  you  have  made  a  mess  of  it," 
he  said  finally.  "  Did  you  get  all  the 
money  back  ? " 

"Yes,"  she  wailed;  "he  sent,  sent 
E-east  for  it  —  to  a  friend." 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     221 

"  You  know,  I  suppose,  that  he  has 
deserted  —  this  man  for  whom  you  have 
ruined  Haggarty  ? " 

"  I   know  it,"  sobbed   Marian. 

"  Perhaps,  as  you  were  on  such  excel 
lent  terms  with  him,  he  confided  in  you 
where  he  intended  to  hide  ? " 

But  that  was  something  she  did  not 
know.  Who,  he  asked,  had  informed  her 
of  Creighton's  desertion  ?  She  told  him. 
A  light  came  into  the  Captain's  eyes,  but 
Marian's  own  were  covered  by  her  hands, 
and  she  did  not  see. 

"  Can  Martha  give  us  any  clew  to  his 
whereabouts  ?  "  he  asked. 

"I  —  I  don't  think  so,"  murmured 
Marian,  brokenly  ;  "  she  said  —  said  she 
didn't  know." 

"  And  have  you  realized,"  he  inquired,  go 
ing  back  to  the  other  subject,  "  have  you 


222     THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

realized  what  this  is  going  to  mean  ?  It 
is  going  to  mean  that  you  have  got  to 
testify  before  the  court-martial  that  tries 
Haggarty,  —  that  you  have  got  to  do  a 
thing  I  never  before  heard  of  any  officer's 
daughter  being  obliged  to  do  ?  You  will 
be  mixed  up  in  the  trial  of  an  enlisted 
man ;  and  very  much  mixed  up  in  it.  It's 
simply  disgraceful,  that's  what  it  is." 

There  was  another  pause,  filled  by 
sobbings. 

Puggy-Wuggy  had  been  asleep  in  a  streak 
of  winter  sunlight.  He  awoke  and  stretched 
himself,  curling  out  his  deep-pink  tongue 
to  an  incredible  length.  Then  he  walked 
over  to  the  bed  and  looked  up. 

His  mistress  was  crying.  That  was  a 
game  she  often  played  just  to  tease  him. 
He  objected  to  it  very  much.  He  studied 
her  and  her  father  inquiringly.  But  Cap- 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     223 

tain  Norris  had  other  things  besides  small 
dogs  about  which  to  concern  himself 
just  then.  Puggy-Wuggy  looked  back 
at  Marian,  and  his  face  puckered  dis- 
tressedly. 

"Wap!"  he  said. 

But  Marian  did  not  heed  him,  and 
Captain  Norris  only  motioned  him  away 
impatiently.  Puggy-Wuggy  mistook  the 
meaning  of  the  movement.  He  thought 
it  referred  to  that  last  trick  he  had  learned 
from  the  master  of  his  most  detested 
enemy,  Skeezicks.  So  he  tried  to  be 
obliging  and  obey.  He  sat  up. 

Now  it  was  by  no  means  easy  for  him 
to  sit  up  without  anybody  to  give  him  a 
lift.  But  he  was  a  well-intentioned  little 
dog.  He  wavered  from  side  to  side,  and 
his  bit  of  tongue  stuck  out  in  the  effort. 
His  black  countenance  was  the  very  picture 


224    THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

of  worry  and  woe.  Yet  nobody  noticed 
him.  He  essayed  a  modest  whine. 

It  had  its  effect.  His  master  looked 
and  saw  a  small,  dark,  Willoughby  pug  — 
sprawled  as  to  hind  legs,  uncertain  as  to  front 
ones  —  the  embodiment  of  unhappiness 
and  of  noble  endeavor  to  do  as  he  was 
bid,  though  he  should  be  disjointed  in 
the  act. 

It  was  very  funny.  Captain  Norris 
smiled.  Puggy-Wuggy  collapsed  all  in  a 
heap,  regained  his  normal  position,  and 
wagged  his  tail.  Captain  Norris  leaned 
over  and  rubbed  his  round  head. 

Marian  had  missed  all  that  had  gone 
before,  but  she  saw  this  last,  and  she  saw 
that  her  father's  anger  was  a  little  —  a  very 
little  —  mollified.  He  rose  to  his  feet  and 
stood  looking  down  at  her. 

"  I  hope  you  see  now,"  he  said,  a  trifle 


I 


ROSE    TO    HIS    FEET,    AND     STOOD    LOOKING   DOWN 
AT    HER." 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     227 

less  severely  (for  she  was  such  a  forlorn- 
looking,  tearful  little  girl,  after  all),  "  I 
hope  you  see  now  what  comes  of  it  when 
girls  meddle  in  official  matters  and  try  to 
manage  other  people's  affairs,  —  when  they 
attempt  to  use  their  own  judgment  with 
regard  to  things  they  have  no  business  to 
meddle  in." 

"  I  know,"  she  agreed,  all  penitence, 
"  but  you've  got  the  money  back  now, 
and  that  part's  all  right.  What  I'm 
thinking  about  is  Haggarty,  my  poor  old, 
nice  old  Haggarty.  Isn't  there  anything 
at  all  that  can  be  done  for  him  ?  Couldn't 
you  let  him  off  if  you  wanted  to  ? " 

"No,"  her  father  told  her,  "I  cannot. 
It  doesn't  lie  with  me.  He  will  have  to 
stand  trial.  There's  no  other  way  for  it." 

"And  how  about  the  Commanding  Offi 
cer?"  she  clung  to  hope;  "couldn't  he?" 


228    THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

But  the   Commanding   Officer  was   without 
power  too,  it  seemed. 

"  No.  You  have  sacrificed  a  faithful  old 
friend  to  the  first  recruit  who  has  come 
along,"  Captain  Norris  said,  "and  Hag- 
garty's  case  is  likely  to  be  a  serious  one." 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE  twine  telegraph  was  busy  and 
squeaking  again,  and  the  small  pieces  of 
paper  pinned  to  it  were  going  back  and 
forth  between  Louis's  room  and  Marian's. 

Louis  had  written,  "  What's  the  rum 
pus?"  Not  that  there  had  been  any 
"  rumpus,"  nor  even  so  much  as  a  raised 
tone  of  voice  since  Marian  had  called  to 
her  father,  excepting  only  Puggy-Wuggy's 
one  inquiring  bark.  It  was  merely  a  fig 
ure  of  speech.  But  the  very  silence  had 
seemed  to  Louis  ominous. 

He  had  noticed  that  when  Marian  and 
her  father  were  together  for  any  length  of 
time  there  was  usually  the  sound  of  mer 
riment.  Now,  however,  there  was  nothing 
229 


230    THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

of  the  sort.  Moreover,  it  had  seemed  to 
Louis  that  he  had  heard  something  sug 
gestive  of  a  sob.  He  waited  with  much 
impatience. 

Then  Captain  Norris  had  left  Marian's 
room  and  gone  downstairs.  Whereupon 
Louis  had  promptly  forwarded  his  inquiry. 
Marian  rubbed  the  tears  from  her  eyes 
with  the  corner  of  the  sheet.  Her  hand 
kerchief  was  mislaid,  and  she  had  not  the 
heart  to  look  for  it  just  then.  A  stray 
sob  still  shook  her  shoulders  from  time  to 
time,  and  her  writing  told  of  a  trembling 
hand. 

"  Haggarty's  in  the  guard-house,  and 
Creighton  deserted  last  night,"  was  her 
reply.  It  was  short,  but  it  held  a  long  tale 
of  woe.  She  was  learning  her  lesson;  she 
was  being  so  over-cautious  now  that  no 
body  could  possibly  accuse  her  of  med- 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER    231 

dling.  She  did  not  intend  to  give  even 
Louis  any  more  information  than  just  that, 
which  any  one  might  know.  It  struck 
Louis  that  way  too.  He  was  not,  by  any 
means,  satisfied  with  knowing  that  which 
anybody  might  know.  He  wanted  to  hear 
particulars.  Marian,  however,  had  reached 
the  limit  of  what  she  meant  to  tell.  No 
body  should  ever,  ever  again  accuse  her 
of  mixing  herself  up  in  official  affairs.  She 
advised  Louis  to  ask  his  uncle  or  some 
body  else. 

Then  she  subsided  miserably  among  the 
pillows  and  stared  up  at  the  crack  in  the 
ceiling,  and  wondered  if  any  one  had  ever 
been  so  unhappy  as  she  was.  If  only  she 
could  have  made  some  great  big  sacrifice 
to  have  gotten  Haggarty  out  of  the  guard 
house  !  But  great  big  sacrifices  made  all 
at  once  can  very  rarely  help  us  to  undo 


232    THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

the  harm  already  done.  If  she  could  but 
get  word  to  him  and  tell  him  how  sorry 
she  was.  Only  she  did  not  dare  to  even 
suggest  such  a  thing  to  her  father  now. 
She  could  merely  hope  that  he  would, 
perhaps  of  his  own  accord,  let  Haggarty 
know. 

And  to  think  that  if  only  Haggarty  had 
not  been  so  faithful,  if  only  he  had  at  once 
told  Captain  Norris  why  he  had  been  ab 
sent  for  those  few  minutes  just  at  the 
wrong  time,  he  never  need  have  been  sent 
to  the  guard-house  at  all.  The  Captain 
would  have  let  it  pass,  and  have  said 
nothing  about  it. 

But  now  he  would  have  to  be  court- 
martialled,  like  any  other  military  offender, 
who  had  done  some  disgraceful  thing.  Or 
else — her  heart  stopped  short!  —  what  had 
she  heard  them  saying  once  that  it  could 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     233 

be  ?  "  Death,  or  such  other  punishment 
as  the  court  may  direct."  What  if  the 
court  should  be  relentless  ?  She  conjured 
up  terrible  things. 

Why,  oh !  why  had  she  not  been  sent 
East  to  boarding-school  long  ago  before 
she  had  had  the  chance  to  make  all  this 
trouble  for  one  of  her  best  friends,  and 
for  herself?  She  hoped  they  would  send 
her  now.  Bad  as  it  would  be,  she  felt  she 
deserved  it.  Yet  it  would  be  some  little 
expiation  for  her  sins,  for  all  the  harm 
she  had  done.  Of  course  her  father  and 
mother  would  think  so  too.  They  were 
perfectly  certain  to  send  her  away  —  after 
she  should  have  testified  at  the  court- 
martial  (that  dreadful  humiliation  which 
had  never  happened  to  any  officer's  daugh 
ter  before).  She  hoped  that  they  would  — 
yes,  she  did.  But  nevertheless  she  turned 


234    THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

her  face  down  upon  the  pillow  again  and 
wept  at  the  dreary  thought. 

As  for  Louis  Beveridge,  he  had  had  no 
severe  lesson  about  interfering  in  official 
matters  —  and,  being  a  civilian,  he  did  not 
fully  understand,  anyway,  what  an  unpar 
donable  offence  it  was.  He  had  no  inten 
tion  of  being  so  circumspect  as  Marian 
had  apparently  grown  to  be  all  of  a  sud 
den.  He  smiled  over  her  note.  "  Stub 
born  little  person,"  he  commented  to 
himself.  "  If  she  says  she  won't  tell,  why, 
she  won't.  But  we'll  see  if  the  Captain 
will." 

Captain  Norris  had  gone  out.  Mrs. 
Norris  came  upstairs,  but  she  went  straight 
to  her  daughter's  room  and  closed  the 
door  behind  her.  Louis  was  consumed 
with  curiosity.  He  had  nothing  else  to 
occupy  his  mind. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     235 

By  and  by,  however,  the  Captain  re 
turned.  As  he  went  along  the  hallway 
toward  his  own  room,  Louis  spoke  to  him. 
The  Captain  had  got  back  some  of  his 
usual  good  nature.  He  answered  Louis's 
questions  as  far  as  he  thought  wise. 

"  Haggarty  is  in  the  guard-house  be 
cause  he  was  found  absent  from  his  post 
on  guard,"  he  said. 

"  Why  was  he  absent  ? "  Louis  wanted 
to  know.  But  that  was  one  of  the  things 
that  Captain  Norris  did  not  see  fit  to  tell, 
as  yet.  "  You'll  find  out,  maybe,  when  the 
court-martial  proceedings  are  made  known." 

His  face  clouded  at  the  mere  idea. 
Those  proceedings  would  be  filled  with  his 
daughter's  name.  Was  Haggarty  likely 
to  be  severely  punished  ?  Louis  asked 
next.  That,  said  the  Captain,  would  de 
pend  upon  the  temper  of  the  court. 


236     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

There  was  evidently  not  much  concern 
ing  the  older  soldier  to  be  learned  here. 
But  perhaps  concerning  the  recruit  there 
was.  Besides,  in  this  case,  Louis  himself 
would  have  information  to  exchange. 

"  I  don't  know  the  first  thing  about 
Creighton,"  Captain  Norris  told  him,  "  be 
yond  the  facts  that  he  forged  a  mounted 
pass,  got  a  horse  from  the  stables,  and 
skipped  out  just  a  little  while  before  retreat. 
And  he  hasn't  been  found  yet." 

"  Any  money  missing  ?  "  asked    Louis. 

Captain  Norris  looked  at  him  sharply. 
"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  he  answered. 
"  Why  ?  " 

"  Only  because  when  he  lit  out  from 
my  father's  offices  there  was  a  forgery  too, 
and  some  money  gone.  Thought  it  might 
have  been  so  this  time." 

"  The  only  money  gone,"  said   the  Cap- 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     237 

tain,  "  is  the  fifty  dollars  that  was  in  your 
uncle's  pocket-book.  Of  course  Creighton 
may  have  taken  that, —  he  was  in  and  out 
of  the  house  during  the  fire,  —  but  it  was 
hardly  enough  to  be  worth  deserting 
with.  And  what's  this  about  your  father's 
offices  ? " 

Louis  told  him.  And  he  had  reason  to 
be  satisfied  with  the  effect  of  his  little 
story.  It  was  Captain  Norris  who  did  the 
questioning  now,  and  Louis  told  all  he 
knew. 

"  But  if  you  were  aware  of  all  this  from 
the  first,"  suggested  the  former,  "why 
didn't  you  tell  me  so  before?  It  might 
have  saved  a  deal  of  trouble." 

"  It  wasn't  any  affair  of  mine,  sir,"  said 
Louis.  "  My  father  wanted  to  give  the 
fellow  another  chance  in  life,  and  there  was 
no  reason  why  I  should  have  prevented 


238    THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

it.  It  never  occurred  to  me  that  he 
would  finish  like  this." 

"  And  have  you  told  any  one  else  ?  "  in 
quired  the  Captain,  with  a  hint  of  anxiety. 

"  I  told  Miss  Marian,  sir,  about  two 
hours  ago." 

Captain  Norris's  eyebrows  went  up.  So 
Marion  had  known  it  all  the  while 
she  had  been  making  her  confession,  and 
had  never  said  a  word  about  it !  Cer 
tainly  she  could  keep  a  confidence  well  — 
if  not  always  wisely.  And  evidently  she 
had  not  intended  to  be  the  means  of  drag 
ging  Louis  into  the  unfortunate  affair.  He 
was  angry  enough  with  her  —  but  still,  he 
admired  that.  Louis  broke  in  on  his 
thoughts.  "  Would  you  mind  telling  where 
they  have  looked  for  Levering,  sir  ? " 

The  Captain  told  him  as  much  as  he 
knew.  "  He  isn't  likely  to  go  to  the  rail- 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     239 

road,  because  we've  telegraphed  all  the  sta 
tions,  and  they're  on  the  lookout  for  him. 
And  there's  not  a  town  within  fifty  miles 

—  except,  of  course,  Mexican  villages  where 
they   wouldn't    be    in    the   least    likely    to 
harbor   him.     Still,    those   villages    will    be 
searched,    of    course.      And    he    can't    be 
spending  the    time  in    the  open,  when   the 
snow  is  still  on  the  ground." 

Louis  delayed  a  moment.  He  had  a 
suggestion  to  make,  but  he  was  afraid  it 
might  seem  a  trifle  presumptuous  for  him 
to  be  suggesting  these  things  to  an  old 
soldier.  Still,  he  himself  knew  Levering, 
and  Captain  Norris  did  not. 

"Don't  you  think,  sir,  they  might  find 
him  somewhere  very  near  home  ?  That's 
a  trick  of  his  —  to  hide  right  close  by. 
City  fellows  do  that  very  often,  you  know 

—  if  they're  sharp.     He  didn't  get  out  of 


240    THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

town  with  the  money  he  took  from  father. 
He  lived  on  the  very  next  street.  We 
only  found  him  by  the  merest  accident." 

It  was  evidently  a  suggestion  worth 
considering.  Captain  Norris  considered  it. 
"  I'll  think  about  it,"  he  said. 

After  a  while  he  went  into  Marian's 
room.  It  was  just  possible  that  Marian 
would  know  something  of  his  haunts  or 
of  his  friends. 

"There's  that  house  on  the  edge  of  the 
reservation,"  she  suggested;  "but,  of  course, 
you've  looked  there." 

"Yes,"  said  her  father. 

"  And  then  there's  Lewinsky's  rancho. 
I've  seen  him  talking  to  Lowinsky  a  good 
many  times." 

It  did  not  seem  worth  much,  since  Lo- 
winsky's  ranch  was  now  deserted  and  its 
owner  in  jail,  —  which  Marian,  of  course, 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER    241 

did  not  know.  But  there  was  the  bare 
chance ;  and,  perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  worth 
taking. 

So,  by  and  by,  a  quartette  of  soldiers  rode 
in  the  direction  of  the  ranch.  They  ap 
proached  it  from  all  four  sides  —  and 
Creighton  had  no  chance  of  escape.  He 
double-bolted  the  doors,  then  hid  himself 
under  a  bunk,  when  he  saw  them  coming. 

The  bolts  were  strong,  but  the  sash  of 
one  of  the  windows  was  not.  Creighton 
wanted  to  fight  when  he  was  dragged  from 
under  the  bed,  but  he  was  one  to  four. 

"  Now,  where's  that  horse  you  got  under 
false  pretences  ?  "  asked  the  corporal.  It 
was  tied  out  under  the  trees  up  the 
creek  a  way.  The  corporal's  look  was 
dreadful  to  see.  In  such  weather  as  this 
a  horse  tied  out  a  night  and  a  day  with 
no  shelter !  It  had  been  fed,  and  there 


242     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

was  a  blanket  over  it,  Creighton  tried  to 
defend  himself.  A  blanket !  and  the  wind 
blowing  a  gale,  and  the  ground  all  snow ! 
"  If  you  hadn't  no  other  kind  of  decency, 
you  might,  anyways,  have  been  decent  to 
the  poor,  dumb  brute."  The  corporal  was 
a  merciful  man. 

"  Why  didn't  you  put  him  in  Lowinsky's 
empty  corral  ? "  he  asked. 

Creighton  was  flippant ;  he  laughed, 
which  the  corporal  thought  in  very  bad 
taste,  under  the  circumstances.  "  Because," 
he  said,  "  the  corral  wouldn't  have  been 
empty  then  —  and  somebody  might  have 
passed  by  and  noticed  it." 

They  made  Creighton  guide  them  to  the 
horse,  which  stood  shivering,  head  and  tail 
hanging  limply,  under  a  sycamore,  in  a 
knot  of  small,  bare  willows.  It  was  hid 
den,  but  not  at  all  protected  from  the  wind 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     243 

that  swept  down  the  valley  and  through  the 
funnel  of  the  bluffs  on  either  side  of  the 
creek.  They  took  it  and  Creighton  back  to 
the  post. 


CHAPTER   X 

MARIAN,  a  little  comforted  by  her 
mother's  sympathy,  to  be  sure,  but  still 
very  fairly  miserable,  was  sitting  up  in  bed, 
a  shapeless  bundle  of  wraps  and  bed-cloth 
ing,  with  only  a  pathetic  face  amid  a  tumble 
of  light  hair  showing  out.  She  was  some 
what  dejectedly  teaching  Puggy-Wuggy  to 
perfect  himself  in  Haggarty's  trick,  and 
encouraging  him  with  pieces  of  cheese.  In 
the  intervals  of  rest  she  lectured  him. 
"  We've  done  poor,  nice  old  Haggarty  a 
great  deal  of  wrong,  you  know,"  she  ex 
plained.  "  We've  disgraced  him  forever,  I 
expect.  He'll  probably  be  sent  to  the 
military  prison  at  Alcatraz,  just  as  though 
he  were  a  criminal.  And  it  will  be  all 
244 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     245 

our  fault,  little  dorglums."  Certainly 
Puggy-Wuggy's  countenance  was  mournful 
enough.  But  then  it  usually  was.  He 
resembled  Haggarty  in  that.  A  mournful 
countenance  had  become  a  habit  with  him. 
It  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  his 
own  feelings,  which  were  usually  perfectly 
cheerful. 

Marian  went  on.  "  So  you  and  I  must 
be  nice  to  Skeezicks,  to  make  up  for  it  all 
as  much  as  we  possibly  can.  We  must 
adopt  him  and  treat  him  beautifully.  He 
won't  have  to  eat  off  the  same  plate  with 
us."  That  she  knew  was  an  indignity  that 
Puggy-Wuggy  would  much  rather  have 
died  fighting  than  have  submitted  to  in 
peace.  "  But  we  won't  scrap  with  him  any 
more  —  even  if  he  is  rather  common.  He 
can't  help  that,  you  know,  and  I'm  sure  he's 
really  very  kind-hearted  and  good  to  his 


246     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

puppies.  Of  course  he's  ugly  —  but  then," 
she  observed  Puggy-Wuggy  critically,  her 
head  on  one  side,  "  but  then,  it's  just  pos 
sible," —  a  smile  came,  in  spite  of  all  her 
misery,  —  "it's  just  barely  possible  that  he 
may  not  consider  you  so  very  handsome 
yourself." 

Either  Puggy-Wuggy  resented  this,  or 
else  he  had  lost  hope  of  any  more  cheese. 
He  unkinked  his  tail,  walked  away,  and, 
turning  about  a  great  many  times,  curled 
up  near  the  stove  with  a  heavy  sigh. 

Marian  echoed  the  sigh  herself  and  lay 
back  upon  the  pillows.  She  was  thinking 
that  the  chances  were  she  would  not  be 
allowed  to  care  for  Skeezicks  —  to  do  even 
that  little  for  the  Haggarty  who  had  done 
so  much  for  her ;  always  supposing  even 
that  Skeezicks  would  consent  to  giving  up 
a  troop  which  did  his  will,  and  to  living  on 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     247 

the  officers'  line.  Skeezicks  had  no  espe 
cial  fondness  for  officers  as  a  class.  And 
they  ran  to  thoroughbreds. 

No,  she  would  be  sent  back  East  to 
boarding-school.  She  was  sure  of  it.  She 
would  not  have  Skeezicks,  nor  Puggy- 
Wuggy,  nor  Natchez,  nor  anything  that 
made  life  worth  living.  To  have  been 
East  with  her  family  when  her  father 
was  on  leave,  was  one  thing  —  and  a  very 
pleasant  one.  But  to  go  there  to  a 
boarding-school  —  a  boarding-school  full  of 
girls !  There  had  never  been  many  girls 
in  Marian's  life.  She  had  liked  those  few, 
as  a  rule.  But  she  was,  nevertheless,  in 
clined  to  look  upon  them  as  a  good  thing, 
of  which  one  could  get  too  much.  A 
hundred  of  the  loveliest  city  girls  in  the 
world  were  not  worth  her  freedom,  her 
lessons  with  her  father  and  mother,  Fuggy- 


248    THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

Wuggy,  Natchez,  and  all  the  rest  she 
would  probably  have  to  forego  now. 

Tears  —  of  self-pity  they  were  this  time 
—  were  slowly  rilling  her  eyes  again. 

And  just  then  she  heard  her  father  com 
ing  up  the  stairs.  He  stopped  by  Louis 
Beveridge's  door. 

"  Has  your  uncle  told  you  that  Creigh- 
ton  was  found  at  Lowinsky's?"  Marian 
heard  him  ask.  Major  Beveridge  was  in 
the  room  with  his  nephew. 

Marian  could  not  hear  Louis's  answer. 
But  what  she  did  catch  was  a  certain 
unmistakable  tone  of  satisfaction  with 
something  or  other,  in  Captain  Norris's 
voice. 

Her  own  spirits  went  up  straightway,  she 
did  not  know  just  why. 

"  We  found  more  than  that,  too,"  he  said, 
and  then  he  seemed  to  have  gone  on  into 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     249 

the  room,  and  Marian  could  not  hear  any 
more. 

He  stayed  for  some  time.  But  at  length 
he  came  out  and  up  the  hall  to  Marian's 
door.  His  face  did  not  express  any  notice 
able  satisfaction,  certainly.  He  looked  stern 
enough  still.  He  closed  the  door  after  him, 
and  sat  down  on  the  chair  by  the  side  of  her 
bed. 

"  Well,"  he  said  to  her,  "  Creighton  is 
caught." 

She  nodded,  but  she  did  not  answer. 
She  waited,  doubtfully,  to  see  why  he  had 
come  to  tell  her. 

"They  found  him  in  Lewinsky's  ranch. 
It  had  been  shut  up  and  locked  after 
Lewinsky  was  arrested,  but  it  seems  that 
he  had  a  key.  And  he's  been  there  ever 
since."  Still  Marian  waited  in  respectful 
silence. 


250     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

"They  brought  him  in,"  continued  the 
Captain,  "  and  they  searched  him.  They 
found  Major  Beveridge's  pocket-book  upon 
him.  Most  of  the  fifty  dollars  was  still  in 
it."  There  was  no  comment  from  Marian. 

"  I  didn't  tell  you,"  went  on  her  father, 
"that  Lewinsky  was  arrested  last  night  be 
cause  he  was  found  to  have  some  of  the 
goods  that  had  been  stolen  from  the  quarters 
in  his  possession  —  in  the  cabin.  He  said 
he  had  gotten  them  from  Haggarty.  Why 
he  should  have  hit  on  Haggarty  to  lie 
about,  I  don't  know  —  unless  he  had  some 
grudge  against  him." 

Marian  did  know,  and  she  knew  what  the 
grudge  was,  too.  She  told  her  father. 

"That's  it,  is  it?"  he  said.  "Well,  it 
doesn't  matter  much  now.  Creighton  has 
been  trapped  into  confessing.  It  was  he 
who  took  them.  And  so,  when  he  heard 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     251 

that  Lewinsky  was  arrested,  he  saw  his  own 
finish,  and  he  deserted.  He  has  not,"  he 
stopped  and  looked  at  her  gravely,  — "  he 
has  not  as  yet  admitted  that  he  sold  the 
things  to  Lowinsky  to  get  the  money  to  pay 
you  back  for  the  troop  funds,  as  I  suppose 
he  did.  But  when  it  comes  to  the  court- 
martial  he  undoubtedly  will.  You  can  see 
—  I  hope  —  the  kind  of  undesirable  no 
toriety  you  are  in  for." 

She  could  see  only  too  well.  "  Does  he 
know  that  you  know  ? "  she  asked.  It 
seemed  that  he  did  not.  "Then,"  she 
ventured,  "mightn't  it  —  if  you  don't  mind 
my  suggesting — mightn't  it  be  a  good  idea 
to  tell  him  that  you  know  ?  He  might  try 
to  spring  it  on  you  at  the  court-martial 
to  make  you  feel  uncomfortable,  you  see." 

Captain  Norris  said  he  would  think  about 
it.  He  stood  up.  "  He  was  a  nice  sort 


252     THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

of  character,  the  man  you  picked  out  to 
champion.  And,  as  it  happens,  if  you'd 
asked  the  opinion  of  nearly  any  grown 
person  in  the  post,  you  would  have  found 
that  we  all  of  us  mistrusted  the  fellow  in 
stinctively.  But  you  wanted  to  rely  on 
yourself,  you  see,  and  this  is  the  result." 

"  I'll  ask  next  time,  you  may  be  sure," 
she  said  decidedly. 

"  I  thought  I'd  tell  you  to  relieve  your 
mind  about  Haggarty's  being  a  thief,"  he 
said.  "  You  ought  to  have  quite  enough 
to  bother  you  without  that." 

"  I'm  sure,"  answered  Marian,  woe 
begone  and  spiritless ;  "  I'm  sure  I  have." 

Captain  Norris  was  at  the  door. 
"  Father,"  began  Marian,  then  stopped. 
He  turned  back.  "  Couldn't  you,"  she 
hazarded,  "  couldn't  you,  don't  you  sup 
pose —  not  for  me,  you  know,  but  for 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER    253 

Haggarty's  sake,  so  that  he  wouldn't  think 
me  something  dreadful  and  ungrateful  — 
couldn't  you  let  him  know  how  I  got  to 
be  in  the  telegraph-pole  hole  —  and  that 
I've  told  you  he  wasn't  to  blame?"  She 
was  scared  at  her  own  boldness,  and  waited 
with  bated  breath. 

"  He  does  know,"  said  Captain  Norris  ; 
and  without  waiting  for  her  delighted  thanks 
he  went  from  the  room. 

He  had  not  been  gone  five  minutes  and 
Marian  had  not  finished  explaining  to 
Puggy-Wuggy  that  at  least  Haggarty  was 
not  a  barracks  thief  after  all,  when  Martha 
Lorrimer  appeared  in  the  doorway  again. 

"Your  mother  said  I  could  come  up," 
she  told  Marian.  Then  she  stopped. 
"  May  I  shut  the  door  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Surely,"  consented  Marian. 

Martha  closed  it  and  came  to   the   bed- 


254     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

side.     "  Did    you    know  that   Creighton   is 

caught  ?  "    she   asked. 

o 

"Yes,"   said    Marian. 

"  Did  you  know  that  they  found  Major 
Beveridge's  pocket-book  on  him,  and  that 
he  told  that  he  stole  those  things  from 
the  barracks  ?  " 

Marian  was  not  going  to  commit  herself  as 
to  that.  But  she  wondered  how  the  news 
had  already  gotten  about. 

Martha  laughed  and  shrugged  her  shoul 
ders.  "  You  needn't  tell  if  you  don't  want 
to,"  she  said,  "but  I  expect  you  knew, — 
or  you'd  have  looked  more  surprised.  It 
wasn't  that  I  came  to  tell  you,  though," 
she  was  going  resolutely  now  to  some 
point.  "  What  I  want  you  to  know  is, 
that  I'm  glad  they've  caught  him,  and  that 
I  don't  care  for  him  any  more  —  not  that 
much."  She  snapped  her  fingers  to  express 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     255 

it.  "  I  did  a  little,"  she  admitted  frankly, 
"  but  not  now." 

"  I'm  glad,"  —  Marian  reached  out  and 
took  the  soft  white  hand  —  "I'm  very 
glad.  You  are  a  great  deal  too  good  for 
him,  Martha,"  she  said. 

"  I  can  only  stay  half  a  minute," 
Martha  went  on  quickly.  "  Mrs.  Norris 
says  you've  had  too  much  excitement  to 
day.  But  I  wish  I  could  bring  you 
some  sort  of  good  news  about  Haggarty. 
I'm  afraid,  though,  it  is  going  to  go 
pretty  hard  with  him.  They  all  say  so. 
I've  been  asking  the  men  —  and  it's 
*  Death,  or  such  other  punishment  as  the 
court  may  direct,'  you  know." 

Her  intentions  were  doubtless  the  best 
in  the  world ;  it  was  only  her  little  Irish 
way  of  loving  a  doleful  effect.  But  when 
she  was  gone,  poor  Marian  lay  with 


256     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

closed   eyes,    saying    it    over   and    over   to 
herself. 

"  Death,    or   such    other    punishment   as 
the  court  may  direct." 


CHAPTER   XI 

" f  IN  the  case  of  Private  Timothy  Hag 
garty,  Troop  "  L  "  — th  Cavalry,  the  find 
ing  and  the  sentence  are  approved,' "  read 
Marian. 

Her  hands  dropped  in  her  lap,  and  the 
copy  of  the  General  Court-martial  Order 
slipped  to  the  floor.  The  last  hope  was 
gone. 

The  finding  and  sentence  of  the  court 
which  had  tried  Haggarty  were  approved, 
and  the  finding  had  been  that  Haggarty 
was  guilty  —  the  sentence,  that  he  should 
be  confined  at  hard  labor  in  the  post  for 
the  period  of  three  months. 

And  there  was  no  redress ;  there  was 
no  other  court  of  appeal.  Haggarty,  in 
s  257 


258     THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

spite  of  the  recommendations  of  the  offi 
cers  of  the  court,  must  serve  his  three 
months  of  hard  labor  before  the  eyes  of 
all  the  men.  To  be  sure,  the  labor  would 
probably  be  —  instead  of  hard  —  extremely 
light.  And  it  was  better  than  "  death,"  or 
Alcatraz  Island.  Yet  it  would  break  his 
proud  old  heart  just  the  same.  She  was 
sure  that  it  would.  He  had  been  so 
very  vainglorious  about  his  long  years  of 
honorable  service. 

Marian  had  had  one  last  hope  after 
that  sentence  of  the  court-martial,  which 
had  seemed  to  her  so  severe,  for  all  that 
they  might  assure  her  it  was  merely  nomi 
nal.  She  had  hoped  that  the  Department 
Commander  would  set  things  right.  But 
now  — 

"Well,"  suggested  Mrs.  Norris,  who 
sat  calmly  sewing,  in  a  manner  which 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     259 

Marian  could  not  but  think  was  heartless 
to  the  last  degree,  "  if  I  were  you,  I  would 
see  if  there  is  anything  further." 

It  could  only  be  what  Captain  Norris 
was  accustomed  to  call  "  piling  on  the 
agony,"  if  there  were.  Nevertheless, 
Marian  bent  over  listlessly  and  picked  the 
sheet  up. 

" — (  Finding  and  the  sentence  are  ap 
proved,' "  she  read  on,  "'but  in  view  of 
the  fact  that  the  prisoner  quitted  his  post 
only  to  perform  a  heroic  act'"  —  even 
Marian  could  not  help  a  smile ;  she  sus 
pected  the  Department  Commander  of 
good-natured  irony  —  "  f  and  inasmuch  as 
the  offence  was  committed  during  a 
time  of  peace,  the  reviewing  authority 
shares  the  evident  view  of  the  court  and 
regards  the  offence  as  a  technical  one,  and 
one  which  was  inspired  by  a  worthy  mo- 


260     THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

tive.  Therefore,'  '  Marian  caught  her 
breath,  "  f  the  sentence  is  REMITTED  '  "  — 
it  was  all  in  large  capitals  that  she  read 
it.  She  was  jumping  up  and  down  in  her 
chair  and  her  face  was  one  big  smile, 
" '  and  the  prisoner  will  be  RELEASED  FROM 
ARREST  and  restored  to  duty.' ' 

"  Isn't  that  bee-utiful  ? "  she  cried. 
"  Isn't  he  just  naturally  a  perfect  Love  ? " 
Which  was  not  what  the  .  Department 
Commander  was  considered,  as  a  general 
thing. 

" (  The  reviewing  authority  regrets  that 
it  was  impossible  to  acquit  Private  Hag- 
garty  of  even  a  technical  offence  (as  the 
court  would  no  doubt  have  been  glad  to 
have  done),  but  this  matter  can  never 
affect  the  soldier's  record  excepting  to  give 
a  lustre  to  it.' " 

There  was     nothing,    absolutely    nothing 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     261 

in  all  the  world,  left  for  Marian  to  wish. 
It  was  a  splendid,  glorious,  satisfactory- 
earth,  wherein  everybody  was  nice  and 
generous  and  a  dear  old  thing  —  from  the 
Department  Commander  himself  down  to, 
—  oh  !  any  one  —  unless  it  should  happen 
to  be  Creighton,  perhaps,  who  was  now  on 
his  way  to  the  Alcatraz  prison. 

Having  hugged  her  mother  to  the  detri 
ment  of  the  sewing  materials,  and  having 
caught  the  thoroughly  unwilling  Puggy- 
Wuggy  by  his  dainty  front  feet  and 
dragged  him  around  in  a  circle,  then  flung 
him  up  in  the  air  several  times,  to  his 
horror  and  terror,  she  went  skipping  to 
the  window  and  looked  out. 

It  certainly  was  a  lovely  post  after 
all. 

Dress  parade  was  going  on.  The  yellow 
plumes  streamed,  the  polished  steel  flashed 


262     THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

white  in  the  cold  winter  sunlight.  The 
brass  and  the  gold  lace  glistened. 

The  band  was  playing  an  inspiring 
march.  It  made  one's  feet  and  fingers  go 
in  spite  of  one's  self.  No  wonder  the  solid 
ranks  swung  out  and  wheeled  and  faced  so 
smoothly,  as  if — as  Marian  had  explained 
to  Martha  Lorrimer  once,  ever  so  many 
years  ago,  when  two  small  tots  had  stood 
hand  in  hand  upon  the  board  walk  of  an 
other  post,  and  had  watched  another  dress 
parade  —  as  if  "  all  their  legs  had  been  one 
piece." 

Louis  Beveridge  appeared  coming  down 
the  line.  Marian  was  sure  he  was  coming 
to  her  house.  Experience  had  justified  her 
in  believing  that,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  he 
was.  It  is  an  easy  habit  to  acquire  in  the 
army  that  of  living  at  some  other  quarters 
about  as  much  as  you  do  at  your  own. 


"  HE  GAVE  MARIAN  THE  PLEASURE  OF  TELLING  HIM 
AGAIN." 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     265 

If  Louis  did  not  spend,  at  the  very  least,  six 
hours,  and  have  one  meal  at  the  Norrises' 
every  day,  there  was  something  wrong. 

"  Here's  Louis  coming,"  suggested  the 
now  cautious  Marian.  "  May  I  tell  him, 
do  you  think  ?  " 

Mrs.  Norris  was  of  opinion  that  he 
would  know  it  already.  "  He's  probably 
coming  to  congratulate  you,  anyway.  But 
you  may  tell  him  if  he's  still  in  ignorance. 
I  expect  it  is  a  General  Order,  and  public 
property." 

Louis  did  know,  but  he  gave  Marian 
the  pleasure  of  telling  him  over  again. 

"  No ! "  he  ejaculated.  "  You  don't 
mean  it?  Toot  the  trumpet,  sound  the 
drums !  What's  the  adjutant  thinking 
about  that  he  doesn't  send  the  band  over 
to  serenade  you,  and  the  performer  of  the 
f  heroic  act,'  too  ?  " 


266     THE   CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

He  took  the  sheet  and  read,  " c  Quitted 
his  post  to  perform  a  heroic  act,'  c  this 
matter  can  never  affect  the  soldier's  record 
except  to  give  lustre  to  it.'  Gee  whiz ! 
Why,  every  old  private  in  the  service  will 
be  breaking  his  precious  neck  to  get  him 
self  court-martialled  for  leaving  his  post. 
They'll  be  digging  post  holes,  and  setting 
figure-four  traps  to  catch  wandering  dam 
sels  unawares.  The  wives  and  daughters 
of  officers  will  be  getting  rescued  every 
night  of  their  lives,  whether  they  want  to 
or  not.  The  regiments  will  turn  hero  to  a 
man.  Lustrous  records  will  fairly  dazzle 
the  eyes  of  the  War  Department.  The 
rooms  where  they  are  pigeon-holed — the 
records  I  mean,  not  the  eyes  —  will  be 
brilliant  as  with  a  thousand  electric  lights. 
A  fire  brigade  will  have  to  be  in  constant 
attendance  to  prevent  spontaneous  com- 


THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER     267 

bustion.  And"  —  he  stopped  short,  and 
observed  her  with  great  attention  —  "  I 
have  reason  to  fear  that  unless  you  are 
carefully  looked  after  you  will  spontane 
ously  combust  yourself.  Consider  that 
shining  countenance !  Don't  you  think, 
Mrs.  Norris,  that  there  are  signs  of  it  ? " 

"  I  wish,"  answered  Mrs.  Norris,  re 
signedly,  "  that  you  two  children  would 
either  subside  or  go  out  and  play." 

"  Great  scheme  !  "  approved  Louis,  heart 
ily.  "  It's  precisely  what  we  will  do. 
We'll  go  out  and  play.  It's  about  five 
thousand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-three 
years  since  there  has  been  a  day  so  evi 
dently  intended  for  taking  a  horseback 
ride.  You  get  on  your  habit,  and  I'll 
scare  up  Natchez  and  Dandy,  and  I'll  race 
you  from  here  to  the  reservation  line." 

"  You   won't,"    denied    Marian,    "  unless 


268     THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER 

it's  a  walking  race  —  and  Natchez  can  beat 
at  that.  I  was  taught  better  than  to  start 
off  my  horse  at  the  top  of  his  speed  — 
and  Haggarty  taught  me.  But  we'll  go 
for  the  ride." 

So  Louis  went  off  for  the  horses,  and 
Marian  to  put  on  her  habit  and  to  recall 
that  other  day  not  so  long  past  when  all 
the  valley  and  the  mountains  had  been 
white  with  two  feet  of  dry  and  crunching 
snow,  when  the  sky  had  been  the  very 
blue  of  the  soldiers'  overcoats,  and  the 
cold  wind  from  off  the  great  plains  and  the 
high  peaks  had  swept  the  snow  before  it 
like  fine  white  dust. 

On  that  day,  when  the  temperature  had 
been  as  bitter  as  her  own  humiliation,  she 
had  testified  before  the  court-martial  which 
had  tried  Private  Timothy  Haggarty.  It  had 
been  made  as  little  unpleasant  for  her  as 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   DAUGHTER     269 

possible,  but  she  had  thought  at  the  time 
that  she  must  die  of  the  mortification,  even 
as  it  was. 

And  now,  after  all,  it  had  come  out 
right.  She  was  forgiven.  She  was  not 
even  to  be  sent  East  to  boarding-school  — 
not  for  another  year,  at  any  rate ;  and  then 
her  mother  would  go  on  with  her,  and 
stay  with  her  in  whatever  city  the  boarding- 
school  might  happen  to  be. 

Haggarty,  dear  old  devoted  Haggarty, 
had  come  out  with  a  name  not  only  un 
tarnished,  but  covered  with  "  lustre." 

The  band  was  playing  another  march. 
It  rang  through  the  crisp  wintry  air,  and 
set  one's  blood  and  one's  eyes  to  dancing. 
Oh,  yes,  this  was  a  glorious,  splendid, 
satisfactory  kind  of  world. 

And  Louis  had  Natchez  and  Dandy 
down  at  the  mounting-block. 


270    THE   CAPTAIN'S    DAUGHTER 

She  rapped  on  the  window-pane,  and 
he,  looking  up,  saw  the  radiant  face  with 
its  aureole  of  fair  hair  under  the  round 
riding-cap. 

"  Coming,"  she  called,  nodding  her  head. 
He  smiled  and  nodded  too.  Then  she 
turned  away  and  ran  quickly  down  to  join 
him. 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  UNREST 


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A  novel  of  the  army  on  the  frontier  during  the  time  of  the  Indian 
outbreaks  under  Geronimo  and  others  in  the  late  seventies.  His 
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"  A  picture  of  the  great  West  —  the  West  of  the  days  of  the 
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" '  The  Heritage  of  Unrest '  is  a  remarkable  book,  and  in  all 
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"  In  every  respect  —  character,  plot,  style,  scenes,  descriptions, 
and  personages  —  the  book  is  unconventional  .  .  .  refreshing." 

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THE  VIRGINIAN 

A  HORSEMAN  OF  THE  PLAINS 
By  OWEN  WISTER 

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holds  him  absorbed  and  amused  to  the  end.  It  does  a  great  deal  more  for 
him.  .  .  .  Whoever  reads  the  first  page  will  find  it  next  to  impossible  to  put 
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—  The  Chicago  American. 

"Mr.  Wister  is  an  engaging  story  teller.  His  descriptions  are  always 
graphic,  and  he  increases  his  reputation  for  narrative  bristling  with  American 
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ANNE    CARMEL 

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Author  of  "  The  Heritage  of  Unrest"  etc. 

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after  all  it  is  not  nature  she  is  primarily  concerned  with;  it  is 
human  nature  —  the  aspirations  and  temptations  of  Jean  Carmel 
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"Finely  and  exquisitely  done  .  .  .  with  delicate  perception 
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Something  deep  and  impassioned  has  stirred  the  senses;  the 
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"  '  Anne  Carmel '  is  a  powerful  story,  studied  in  its  simplicity 
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characters  are  live  men  and  women.  The  background  is  no 
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2509  The  cap tain 's 
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